


That's the Way

by General_Zargon



Category: One Piece
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Multi, Pre-Canon, SI reborn as Teach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 45
Words: 78,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22027387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/General_Zargon/pseuds/General_Zargon
Summary: Alternatively titled: "In which SITeach tells Canon to go fuck itself."After much thought and wrestling with plot bunnies, I managed to get this down. Not a bad start if I do say so myself. :) I probably missed some tags, but considering I wrote this all on my phone I'm pretty proud.
Comments: 1814
Kudos: 1706
Collections: A Collection of Beloved Inserts, A Labyrinth of Fics, Precious Rare and Unique, Reincarnated as a side character, Reincarnation and Transmigration, Stories That Deserve More, Suggested Good Reads, These are the best written fanfics I've ever read, oc self insertSI





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alternatively titled: "In which SITeach tells Canon to go fuck itself."
> 
> After much thought and wrestling with plot bunnies, I managed to get this down. Not a bad start if I do say so myself. :) I probably missed some tags, but considering I wrote this all on my phone I'm pretty proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Just wanted to let everyone know that this story is marked complete so I don't feel pressured to update, not because it's actually finished.

In hindsight, it took an embarrassingly long time before he realized what happened.

In his defense, for the first seven years of his (second?) life he was more concerned with staying alive than discovering the reason for the vague sense of _wrong_ hovering in the back of his mind. An orphan and only child, he was on his own as far as food, shelter and other necessities were concerned. And then there was the matter of protecting his daily haul from the sticky fingers of the other street-kids, which required the bulk of his attention.

Occasionally something would twinge as _familiar_ or _not right_ , but he shook off the uneasy feeling. So what if the village he lived in didn't have TV or radio (what were those? The mayor was the only one with a Transponder-). Hell, he didn't even know his own name until one day he managed to snatch three whole rolls from the baker's display and the woman yelled out, "Marshall you brat, get back here!"

Marshall huh? He mused as he munched on his bounty, then shrugged. It was a common enough name, but he liked it.

(So why was something in the back of his mind screaming in warning?)

The lack of technology had him thinking that his home village was on one of those isolated island paradises you sometimes heard about, and if he heard people talking about pirates, well that was just one of the perils of island life. Others being the animals inhabiting the jungle that covered the bulk of the island.

(Why were the animals so large?! Wolves didn't grow that big _on this island they did it was normal wasn't it_?)

He'd figured out early on that he was strong for his age, to say nothing of his monstrous appetite that the little food he managed to steal in town did little to sate, so he went into the jungle with the idea of setting traps and catching his own food.

It was the best and worst decision he ever made.

His first expedition ended in disaster, and he barely made it back to his hideout in one piece, bruised and bleeding but still alive. He got surprisingly few scars from the ordeal, and after he healed up, he grabbed an old knife (the only weapon he had, taken from one of the other urchins who tried to make a move on his streets), and headed right back to the jungle.

The horse-sized wolf that did the damage ended up his first catch. He felt a large amount of pride as he bit into a chunk of roast wolf, but that was nothing compared to how he felt when he learned how to make use of the wolf's pelt; the fur-lined coat he made became one of his greatest treasures.

Only once after he wised up and learned about using the terrain and picking his prey did he come close to death: he accidentally crossed into the territory of the Wolf Lord and the beast came after him like a hurricane, shattering his knife and nearly taking off his hand with the first strike (the only reason he kept the limb was because his instincts _screamed_ seconds before those jaws clamped shut and he let go of the knife, pulling back in the nick of time).

Wolf Lord bearing down on him, he'd thrown up his arms to protect his head and braced himself, his awareness narrowed down to him and the wolf, and from the corner of his eye he saw a flash of gleaming black as those dagger-like fangs struck. Shockingly, he didn't lose his arms, and the Wolf Lord retreated, somehow missing several teeth and now watching him warily.

Not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, he ran.

(When he thought back on it later, he would want to dismiss that glimpse of black as wistful thinking _but why would he be wistful he didn't even know what it was_ -!)

Once he calmed down and his heart rate returned to normal, he thought about what that strange blackness could have been-

( _strength armor determination awareness the will to never ever bow or back down_ -)

\--And decided it would be better to hold off on hunting for awhile, at least until he could figure it out.

* * *

When he was eight years old, one of the other urchins, a girl named Rebecca that he was kind of friends with under the tacit understanding that she didn't try to steal his food and he wouldn't beat her up and sometimes let her stay in his hideout when it was stormy, found a weird-looking fruit.

One of the best thieves among the street-kids, Rebecca claimed she broke into a merchant ship and grabbed a fancy box that she later opened to find the weird fruit inside. One of the older urchins who sometimes worked small jobs on the docks identified it as a Devil Fruit (that sense of uneasiness in the back of his mind _howled_ ) and informed her and everyone else in earshot that Devil Fruits were _valuable_ and Rebecca promptly grabbed her loot and ran, aware of the target now on her back.

Valuable things rarely stayed in the same hands for long, and not by their owners' choice.

Marshall was strong and everyone knew it, Rebecca explained, so they'd hesitate to come after her if it meant they'd have to fight him too.

He listened quietly to her reasoning, appearing attentive but in reality his mind was far away, a whole world away in fact.

Anything else he could have dismissed, the lack of technology blamed on isolation and the overly large animals on environmental factors, but a warped, twisted fruit that gave whoever ate it powers? Denial only went so far. He had to face facts: he was in the world of One Piece.

(something clicked, and the vivid image of a bright D-shaped grin flashed through his mind)

When and where though? He didn't even know the name of the island he was on! 'Has the occasional bout of crazy weather' did not narrow it down!

Groaning, he interrupted Rebecca's babbling about how much the fruit could be worth and if he helped her she'd split the profit with him. "Fine, you can hide out here. Touch my food and you're on your own." He told her bluntly. The other kid (hell, she was younger than him wasn't she) grinned back, revealing a gap in her teeth where a baby tooth had fallen out.

"Deal!"

* * *

The Devil Fruit turned out to be the Rat-Rat Fruit, Model: Raccoon.

How did he learn this? The older kids on the street - practically teenagers - teamed up to launch a surprise attack in a bid to steal it. He was able to deal with most of them (ha! they had nothing on the jungle wolves!), but two managed to slip by in the chaos. While their compatriots were laid out moaning in pain, the pair cornered Rebecca and out of desperation, she ate the fruit.

It was his first time seeing a Zoan Devil Fruit eaten, either in this life or the last, and it was both fascinating and nerve-racking to see. He couldn't even imagine what it was like for Rebecca as her body shifted, becoming something halfway between human and raccoon. The two who slipped past him recoiled, and when Rebecca lunged at one, he knocked out the other.

Once the fight was over, he was able to get a good look at Rebecca. At least two foot taller, longer raccoonish jaw, ears, shiny black nose, small but sharp claws, backwards knees and a long furry tail in addition to what he could see of her skin being covered by gray-black fur. She honestly didn't look that bad, he thought, and after a moment told her so when she started to look nervous.

It helped, but she still looked on edge, so after a moment of thought he offered, "Want to help me go through their pockets? They owe me after trashing my hideout."

Rebecca perked up.

Fur or not, she was still the best thief on the streets.

* * *

He wound up moving hideouts, but he didn't mind that much. His old one had been getting a little cramped as he grew, and moving to a bigger one close to the jungle meant he could help Rebecca practice her powers with little danger of being spied on.

There was an old house that looked like it was on the verge of collapse that worked nicely, and he wound up spending a lot of the money (beri, it was called beri, he needed to remember that) he'd looted from the guys who jumped him buying materials to fix the place up. Luckily he had a good supply of pelts saved up that he could use as a bed and blankets or he would have been sleeping on the floor.

(Rebecca wasn't bothered; she figured out how to turn into a full raccoon and then curled up at the foot of his pelt-pile when it was time to sleep.)

* * *

He used haki on purpose for the first time when he was nine, a shining black fist smashing into the jaw of a man trying to cheat him on the price of the pelts he was selling and sending the man and several of his teeth flying in different directions.

 _Armament Haki_ , he thought with no small amount of awe as he grabbed both his pelts and the cheat's money and went on his way. If he was in any one of the Blues, that would give him a huge advantage. Now all he needed was Observation and he'd be set!

(It never occurred to think he might have the third.)

(Rebecca unlocked her Observation Haki shortly afterwards and he sulked for _days_.)

(And then he realized that he'd had Observation Haki running whenever he went hunting and felt like an idiot.)

* * *

The moment he learned his full name was the same moment he stood in the darkness of an alley and stared up at the gigantic ship anchored to the dock. A very _familiar_ ship.

Images flashed through his mind.

An angry young man seeking to prove himself against one of the World's Strongest.

That same man proudly wearing an old pirate's mark, the mark of his family.

A brother turned traitor, another brother slain because of greed and lust for power.

Impel Down.

The War of the Best.

Whitebeard dead. Portgas D. Ace dead. Countless pirates and Marines dead. All because of one man's greed and ambition.

"Marshall D. Teach, isn't it amazing?" Rebecca breathed out beside him, eyes shining as she looked at that great figurehead.

"Yeah." He choked out, mind spinning with memories of things yet to come. "Amazing."

And so, so terrifying.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which SITeach freaks out and more realizations happen. Also, Canon is flipped off for the first time.

He slipped away while Rebecca admired the massive ship that was the Moby Dick (and seeing it on paper or a screen was one thing, but real life? It was _magnificent_ ).

Hidden in a dark corner halfway back to his house, Marshall (not Teach, he refused to think of himself by that name) sank down into a crouch, put his head between his knees, and breathed, silently breaking down as everything hit him. It was all so unbelievable, but it was _true_. No one would go through the trouble of making a working replica of the _Moby_ just to trick him, but that meant that not only was he in One Piece, he was fucking Blackbeard _before_ he became Blackbeard, long before if he remembered the latest flashback chapters right-

Smacking himself across the face, he took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. Okay, he had to calm down, no time for hyperventilating, he thought firmly, putting all his focus into calming his heartbeat and just breathing. His Observation haki was running overtime to make sure no one snuck up on him as he stood up and made his way back towards the main streets. Pretty much everyone was down at the docks looking at the pirates and their ship, so he had the street to himself.

Passing a shop window, he paused midstep when he caught a glimpse of his reflection. Turning and looking at it intently, he felt like he was seeing himself for the first time.

He was tall for a ten year-old (Teach's birthday was August 3rd, he remembered); big-boned with tanned skin and, he was relieved to note, all of his teeth. Hygiene was something he'd always made a point about, and he was glad he had. He remembered Blackbeard's gap-toothed grin and shuddered. No, no way, not on his life!

Although he ate more than most, his rigorous training kept him muscular rather than fat. His hair was dark and frizzy and wow, maybe Rebecca had a point about brushing his hair more often...with dirt smeared across his face and his hair like it was, he was a mess. He was still growing, so he wasn't put off by the gangliness of his limbs or the disproportionate size of his hands and feet. He remembered what people could look like in One Piece, so technically speaking he got off lightly.

With a proper diet and training, he wouldn't have to worry about looking like a sumo wrestler when he was in his twenties, he assured himself.

Self-consciously brushing at some of the dark stains on his shirt, a plain white one that he was quickly outgrowing, he straightened his fur-lined coat with a swift tug. He stood up straight, acutely aware of the fact that his shoes were falling apart and his pants only came down to mid-calf thanks to his latest growth spurt.

Yeah, he looked rough, he acknowledged. But still, there was potential there, if he played his cards right.

If he remembered right, it was originally _Teach_ who asked to join the Whitebeards so he should just, not do that? Maybe? Would that work, he pondered as he resumed walking. He would admit that he kind of wanted to meet Whitebeard, but the memory of the clusterfuck that would follow convinced him that it wasn't worth it. Okay, so it was decided: no joining the Whitebeard Pirates.

He sometimes worked a few odd jobs down at the docks, mostly loading and unloading cargo where his monster-like strength came in handy, but he could miss a few days until the Whitebeards left.

As worried and mildly terrified as he was about what would happen in the future, there was one thing he was certain of, and that was that he wasn't going to join the Whitebeards.

(He wasn't going to kill Thatch! He wasn't! He wouldn't start the War!)

* * *

"You want to what?"

He stared blankly at Rebecca, who patiently repeated.

"I think we should join the Whitebeards." She looked at him hopefully even as his eyebrow twitched. Of course. Of freaking course that would come up the day after he resolved to never join that same group of pirates. Hell, he'd be happy never leaving his home island.

(He knew he'd have to at some point though, which was why he worked at the docks and picked up what he could about sailing and navigation from the workers there.)

"No." He said firmly, crossing his arms resolutely.

"Why not? You're strong! They'd definitely let you join if you asked!" The raccoon-girl exclaimed. "Think about it! We wouldn't have to worry about food or shelter, we'd have other people to watch our backs, we wouldn't have to be afraid!" The raw, aching _hope_ in the eight year-old's voice hit him like a punch in the gut. It was obvious what Rebecca wanted: a family. He wasn't enough anymore. He'd expected it, but the knowledge still hurt.

Judging by Rebecca's flinch, she realized how it sounded, but she stood her ground, dark eyes hard and shining with determination. It was a battle of wills with neither one willing to back down.

Rebecca wanted a home and family, somewhere she wouldn't have to struggle for every scrap of food or affection. He, he just wanted to stay under the radar and live peacefully and grow strong enough to withstand the shitshow that is Canon.

(And avoid Ace dying, that was also a major goal.)

He knew what he had to do (didn't know if one less crewmember would make a difference), and he looked her right in the eye as he said, "You go. While they might let one kid onboard, two is a stretch, and of the two of us, you have a Devil Fruit so you'll be more valuable." Everything he said was true, so Rebecca didn't have any way to argue.

Or at least it was true for pretty much every pirate crew except the Whitebeards. But she didn't know that and by the time she found out it'd be too late.

"Come on, Marshall! This is our chance to get off this island, so just try!" She pleaded, but he stood fast, turning his back and not saying anything more until Rebecca finally gave up several hours later.

The Whitebeards were set to depart early tomorrow morning, Rebecca told him in a whisper, still hopeful that he'd change his mind.

He knew he wouldn't. The looming specter of Canon ensured that.

* * *

Shortly after dawn the next day, he stood in the shadow of a building next to the docks and watched as the Moby Dick sailed away.

He didn't wave, he didn't call out, he just watched the massive ship get smaller and smaller until it was just a black dot on the horizon. Rebecca was on that ship, and he could only hope that his first real friend in this life would be okay. The Whitebeards were good people and they looked after they're own, he told himself, and felt a tiny bit better. He stood there until the ship was out of sight, and then turned and walked away.

If a single tear slipped down his cheek, he was the only one there to know.

He promised himself that he'd keep an eye on the bounties, just in case.

* * *

The few weeks after Rebecca left, he felt adrift after having dodged the first Canon event he encountered. A bit giddy over avoiding the action that would set in motion a series of events that would end in pain and death, he could admit he splurged a bit on some new pants and shoes, even buying a brush to fight with his tangled mane of hair. Which turned out to be longer than he thought, falling to the tops of his shoulders once he got all the tangles out.

He practiced his haki, coating his hands and arms with gleaming black and tracking the giant jaguars that competed with the wolves for control of the jungle. He came up with a new training regimen that involved coating parts of his body in Armament and holding it for as long as possible - mainly his hair, because it wasn't as noticeable if he went into town. He hunted and trained and fought, occasionally working the docks.

On a side note, he finally figured out where his home island was located, and the knowledge made him want to curse.

The New World. It just fucking figured that Marshall D. Teach was a New World native - it fit with the flashback scenes at least. He sighed, lifting a crate that would have taken four grown men to move with one hand and trudging towards his assigned warehouse. He knew where he was, now he needed to work from there. He definitely needed a Log Pose, and he'd have to check and see if anyone was selling a boat or fishing vessel just in case-

His thoughts were interrupted by a rough shout, "Hey brat! Get over here!" and he sighed as he put the crate down and went to see what the dockmaster wanted.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All good things must come to an end.  
> (Canon says Blackbeard left his island the year he turned eleven and Canon does not like to be denied.)

Unfortunately for him, those carefree days didn't last. He'd let his guard down, thinking it was all smooth sailing after he'd avoided the Whitebeards, and was caught completely off guard when that was proven to be far from the case.

Pirates attacked his home island.

A month after Rebecca and the Whitebeards left, his favorite coat finally gave up the ghost. He had to admit, he was actually surprised it had lasted as long as it had, but he was still rather sullen over having to replace it. He was in the jungle hunting down a wolf for the fur-lining on his new coat (he was aiming for the Wolf Lord, but the wily beast had taken to avoiding him, and even with Observation haki it was hell tracking it down) when the attack came.

He was kneeling down to look at some tracks when a loud _boom_ split the air, so sudden that the surprise had him falling on his ass. There he was, sitting in the dirt and looking blankly up at the sky. And then he saw the tendrils of smoke drift across the sky. That's when he knew something was wrong. He was up and running back towards the town before he registered what he was doing, he just knew he had to do _something._

He didn't recognize the cannon fire as what it was, not until he was halfway there.

The docks were a lost cause, wood splintered and smashed apart, the few planks not floating on the water engulfed in flames. The dockmaster's office was a pile of rubble, several warehouses meeting the same fate as the black-sailed ship offshore continued it's bombardment. The dock area suffered the worst damage, but there were at least four houses and stores being consumed by flames. The air was swiftly filling with smoke. And then he heard the screams, both with his ears and Observation.

Fear and anger and pain beat at his mind, warring with determination as the townspeople rallied, starting bucket-chains to help fight the fires and digging through rubble in search of survivors. That was when the cannonballs ceased and the real attack began.

He'd reached the town and was helping the baker lift a piece of roof off her husband when he suddenly felt some of the lives he was sensing with Observation just...disappear.

His breath caught, and he nearly dropped the roof he was supporting. He felt sick. He realized what happened seconds later, and he urged the baker and her husband to hurry. The woman had her husband halfway clear, but even from his position Marshall could see the man's leg was broken. His heart sank and he urged, "Get a move on! The pirates are here! Move move _move_!"

That seemed to give the baker a surge of strength, and then her husband was clear. He dropped the roof with no small amount of relief, the smoke stinging his eyes and causing them to water. It wasn't because the couple was now hobbling down the street, battered and bruised but _alive_. It wasn't!

Without wasting another moment, he spun on his heel and took off, searching for anyone else who needed help. Some of the townspeople were fighting back, mostly those from the streets, but even some shop-owners had grabbed makeshift weapons and were resisting. He lent a hand where he could, a punch here or a kick there, never staying long enough to see what happened after he knocked them down. They disappeared from his Observation. He knew.

Before he knew it, he'd reached the docks. It was a sea of fire and smoke, and he had to pull his shirt over his nose to keep from inhaling even more of the toxic fumes. One glance told him there was nothing he could do. Turning away to head back through town, he froze when a _presence_ brushed his haki, bigger and somehow more substantial than the townspeople or the weaker pirates attacking the town. A shiver clawed down his spine, and he bolted, not wanting to stay long enough to find out who that presence belonged to.

It turned out he didn't have a choice.

He was running between two mostly intact buildings when he heard a loud voice rumble, "Alright men, that's enough fun, time to get down to business! Grab everything of value and get your arses back to the ship!" That voice then laughed, like destroying the town was some kind of _joke_.

His hands curled into fists, blunt nails biting into his palms. He knew he couldn't risk attacking, but he _needed_ to know what this bastard looked like.

(For future reference, he thought darkly.)

The first thing he noticed was the sheer amount of _orange_ the man was wearing. That the whole crew was wearing, in fact. Then he got a look at the guy-in-charge's face and his mind blanked. He had never seen a guy with a more rat-like face in either of his lives, not that Marine Captain Nezumi or the snitch who hung around the bar with the unfortunate name of Ricky the Rat.

(The bar was near the docks...)

Well, on the plus side he would be easy to recognize, he thought distantly. He held still, waiting for the bulk of the pirates to move on before he slipped back down the alley and took off sprinting. He used a more circuitous route, sticking to the ground in case the rooftops were no longer passable. That was when he saw the bodies. Bodies that didn't belong to pirates.

Iris the weaver...Nathan the carpenter...Bobby the blacksmith...

Not just them, but dozens of people that he'd grown up knowing. The town was small, so everyone knew everyone. That was more a curse than a blessing in this case, he thought distantly, passing more bodies, many of them next to the corpse of one or more pirates. They went down fighting.

He got back to his house without being seen, his haki tuned to keeping an eye on the pirates. None of them were close by, and his house hadn't been touched, probably due to the distance from town. He sensed some people hiding in the forest, including the baker and her husband, but they weren't nearby.

He couldn't stay on the island. He knew that, but that didn't make packing his few belongings into the lone bag he had any easier. It was just a few changes in clothes that he'd already outgrown and a couple of trinkets that were more sentimental than anything. The box that had contained Rebecca's Devil Fruit, a carved wooden wolf that the carpenter gave him, an ornamental hand-mirror and brush, one of the Wolf Lord's fangs...nothing particularly valuable but _his_ nonetheless.

He had a decent amount of Beri saved up from his jobs at the docks and the occasional fight. Not a lot of people would fight him since his latest growth spurt, but there was the occasional drunk dock-hand or fisherman, so it added up to a decent chunk of change. Around 500,000 Beri in total, he counted.

Shoving it into a waterproof wallet (taken from an aforementioned drunk fisherman), he put _that_ into his bag and slung it over his shoulder. The pirates were moving through the town, and he knew some of the townsfolk kept small boats hidden away from the docks along the coastline. He would grab one and make for the nearest island. After a lot of effort, he'd gotten his hands on a Log Pose, currently strapped to his wrist. He would be fine.

Or at least, that's what he told himself.

* * *

There wasn't a single undamaged boat.

Staring in disbelief at the splintered remains of Old Man Hodge's sailboat, he felt his last hope crumble. It'd been hit by a stray cannonball, he saw, the heavy iron culprit sitting in the sand a few feet away.

How was he supposed to escape now?! He mentally howled, looking around wildly, his haki running at full power as he tried to find a solution. Maybe he could tie some boards together? No, in the New World that would be suicide. He was a pretty good swimmer; he'd been practicing by doing laps around the island, but he wasn't banking on being _that_ good. He wasn't Rayleigh, for crying out loud!

So concerned with the immediate problem, he let his concentration slip and it was only his instincts that let him dive forward and avoid the knife thrust that would have caught him in the middle of the back. Kicking up a cloud of sand, he rolled back to his feet and faced the lone pirate behind him.

There was no dramatic monologue or long, tense moment. He only had enough time to see the bright orange outfit and gleaming knife before his focus was consumed with staying alive.

Though not quite eleven, he was still almost six foot tall and his time working the docks and fighting the beasts of the jungle had honed his muscles. He was strong, stronger than the pirate expected, and before it really registered, he had the knife buried in its owner's chest. The pirate fell, a look of shock on his face and blood spilling from his mouth.

Marshall knew he should feel something. Shock or horror or even guilt over taking another person's life, but he didn't. He had more important things to worry about.

Some blood splashed on his hands, and he idly wiped it off on the dead pirate's clothes, rifling through his pockets on autopilot. He came up with a handful of Beri and a pearl the size of a quarter which he then slipped into his bag. He thought briefly about taking the knife - clean the blood off the blade and it could probably be sold for a good Beri - but even as numb as he was he just...couldn't do it.

Leaving the knife to rust, he turned back to the sea and tried to think of a solution to his current problem. It was the middle of the day, but the smoke filling the sky made it seem darker, hazier. Through the haze, he could faintly make out a small shape bobbing in the waves a little away from the shore.

Squinting, his breath caught in surprise as the shape solidified into that of a small rowboat.

Hope rose in his chest, and without hesitation he charged into the surf, diving headlong into the water and surfacing with a gasp. He swam towards the bobbing boat, long, sure strokes of his arms propelling him forward. The salt of the sea spray stung his face, rougher than how it usually was when he practiced, but he kept going.

He reached the boat and hauled himself aboard, falling over the side and landing hard on the bottom. There was no one else on the boat, which made sense. It must have been knocked loose from where it was docked by the impact of the cannonballs before anyone could get to it and it had floated far enough away that most people wouldn't chance the swim.

There were oars in the boat; he could feel the handles poking him in the back. Good, he sighed in relief, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath before sitting up. The boat was pretty cramped, but there was a small chest of supplies, including dried food and a blanket, which was more than he'd hoped for.

He pulled his legs up, consulted his Log Pose, put the oars in the water, and started rowing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things hit slower than others.

Two days later, he was trying to figure out how to filter seawater into drinkable water when it hit that he was homeless now. He was literally carrying everything he owned, and he had to take a moment to just breathe.

He was out in the middle of the ocean, in the _New World_ , in a _rowboat_ , with only a single-needle Log Pose to guide him to the nearest island and he'd long since draped a spare shirt over his head to keep from getting heat stroke or sunburned. But he wasn't a sailor, he was probably doing a million things wrong and he wouldn't know it and he might not make it to the next island before the food ran out-! White noise filled his ears, black spots danced across his vision, the Observation he'd been using to avoid sea kings was rendered useless and _oh_ , was this what a panic attack was like? He didn't like it.

He put his head between his knees and took deep breaths, trying to calm down. His heart was pounding like it was trying to jump out of his chest, and his throat was tight. He saw some drops of water on his pants, and at first he thought it was raining. Then he touched his face and felt the wetness. He wiped his face with a numb hand and looked at the moisture left behind. Oh. He was crying.

He didn't know how long it took before he snapped out of it, but he caught a glimpse of his Log Pose and it was pointing in the opposite direction of where he was going, which admittedly helped him get a grip. Grabbing the oars and working on turning his boat around, he told himself that there'd be time for mourning later, right now he had to focus on surviving.

(He felt better after his brief breakdown though, like poison had been drained from a wound he didn't know he had.)

* * *

His food ran out on day five, but he figured out the water purification trick and had a decent pile of salt to prove it. He managed to rig up a kind of fishing pole with some rope and one of the oars that worked moderately well, but there was still no sign of land.

The trip between islands probably took longer with no sail, but he was strong and spent almost the whole day rowing, so surely he'd made _some_ progress? He tried to remember what the dockmaster said about travel times between them and the closest islands, but all he recalled was the old man ranting about idiot rookies who didn't have the sense Davy Jones gave a goose. Funny, but not helpful.

He looked contemplatively at the boat, wondering if he could rig up some kind of sail with the blanket he found in the supply box and one of the oars...? Move his bag there and slide the box over to hold it in place and yeah, this was doable.

Before he could put his plan into action, the previously sunny sky abruptly turned dark, and it was with a sinking feeling that Marshall looked up.

He'd _thought_ the weather was being too nice for the New World.

And on that note, the storm brewing over his head broke loose and he didn't have time to think.

* * *

All things considered, he made it through his first New World storm surprisingly well. He was still alive, for one thing, which was more than most people could say. His boat was intact, and the only real damage was some bruising and the loss of his improvised hat.

Even with the crashing waves and non-stop lightning strikes, that storm had been rather mild by New World standards, he could acknowledge once he made it through the 'oh my God I'm still alive' phase. Looking around at the now-tranquil sea, he let out a long, slow breath and took a moment to process the sheer _insanity_ he'd just experienced.

He remembered some of the crazy weather shown in the series and, sprawled out in the bottom of his boat, groaned in dismay as he realized what he had to look forward to. Once his bruises stopped throbbing and he caught his breath, he sat back up and brushed sea-wet hair out of his eyes as he looked around. His Log Pose was pointing off to the side, but as he squinted towards the horizon, he could faintly make out a black dot through the glare of sunlight on water.

A strangled sound escaped him as he lunged for the oars and started rowing. Land! Actual land! It wasn't the island he was aiming for, but land!

If a few tears slipped out, there was no one around to know.

* * *

The island was called Orango, and he'd actually been at sea ten days instead of the five he thought. Oh, and he'd been hopelessly lost, since Orango was in the opposite direction of the island he'd been aiming for. The storm had actually saved him by blowing him off course; if he'd continued on his latest heading he wouldn't have hit land for _weeks_.

Apparently, the news that his island had been attacked by the Sun Rat Pirates had already reached Orango, a woman sympathetically informed him when he told her of what island he was from. There were few if any survivors.

(The _Sun Rats_. Such an appropriate name, he snarled, briefly clenching his fists.)

The woman kindly offered to let him stay at her shop in exchange for some work when he said how old he was, and what other choice did he have? He wouldn't be able to live long on just his savings and food was included, so he agreed.

He spent the next week familiarizing himself with Orango, which wasn't that different from his home island in that there was a town and most of the island was a jungle. That was where the similarities ended, however.

(He never did defeat the Wolf Lord...)

There was also a mountain near the south side of the island, and since you had to trek through the jungle to get to it most people left it alone. _He_ made it a personal goal to climb it.

The woman, whose name was Annie, owned a glassblowing shop and needed help with moving a few of her tools around, which was easy enough.

("Some of those weigh almost three hundred pounds," Annie gasped, watching the boy, Marshall, shift around equipment it had taken a dozen workers to install as easily as if he was lifting a stack of paper.

Her sister Mary patted her on the shoulder, saying optimistically, "Well, at least with him around you won't have to worry about that jerk showing up."

"Uh huh." Annie agreed, from the corner of her eye seeing a certain nuisance who'd been pestering her about marriage gaping in shock at the casual display of strength. He left rather quickly after Marshall picked up the furnace and turned to ask where she wanted it. The kid wasn't even breaking a sweat. She mutely pointed to the spot.)

* * *

He recovered from his first voyage remarkably fast (the D constitution at work), all it took was a good meal and some sleep and he was fine. It also turned out that the salt he had from making his own drinking water could be sold, so he got a bit of Beri from that (because what would he use it for?).

When he woke up from the first morning after landing on Orango, he borrowed a toothbrush and thoroughly cleaned his teeth, even scrubbing his tongue for good measure. Then he went in search of a shower and change of clothes, since all of his were both wet and encrusted with salt. Hygiene taken care of, he'd buckled down and gotten to work.

In that way a week passed, and it was on a slow day that Annie told him to go exploring, so he promptly headed straight for the jungle. Unlike his home island, this one was populated mostly by giant bobcat and some rather aggressive deer. He didn't manage to make it to the mountain, but he brought back three bobcat carcasses and four deer.

He had to hurriedly drop his prizes to catch a fainting Annie before she hit the floor.

He didn't get what the problem was but whatever, when she came to she helped him sell them and he got some clothes that actually fit out of the deal.

(And he got to keep the meat! Lucky!)

* * *

Three weeks in, he reached the mountain.

Standing at the base, he looked up and hummed thoughtfully. It was no Red Line, but it would be good for training, and a little over two weeks in a rowboat (which he was keeping dry-docked behind Annie's shop - that boat had helped him too much for him to abandon it) meant that he was sadly out of practice. His Observation was in top shape, but the only time he'd used Armament was during the storm, which was why he'd gotten away with only bruises.

His fingers gleaming black and sinking into the rock like a knife through butter, he started climbing.

The route he chose was a sheer drop if he slipped, but he welcomed the challenge. Sweat dotted his brow by the time he was halfway up, his blood pumping with excitement as he kept his eyes locked on the summit. Suddenly his Armament faltered, black fading from his fingers just as he reached for a handhold. From there it was like watching dominoes fall: his hands slipped, fingers scrambling for purchase only to grasp air as he began to fall.

Almost as if in slow motion, the ground got closer and closer and his mind raced. He had to slow his descent, pause his fall somehow so the impact wouldn't be as great - Moonwalk! The Marine technique that let people fly! It was a long shot, but what did he have to lose?

Righting himself as much as possible, he began to kick at the air, heart in his throat as the ground got closer and closer. Oh shit, this was gonna hurt-!

He hit the ground rolling, breath knocked out of him and head ringing. His right side ached, so he was alive, that was good. Didn't feel like anything was broken, also good. Grunting as he sat up, he cradled his head in one hand as he waited for the world to stop spinning. "Ouch..." He muttered, cautiously prodding at his aching side and gratified to only feel bruises and throbbing muscles, maybe a cracked rib or two. Nothing a meal and night's sleep wouldn't fix.

It was only after he stood up and dusted himself off that he realized that he was at least a dozen yards away from where he _should_ have fallen, not to mention the way he was positioned in the air meant he should have hit feet-first, but he'd landed on his side...

He blinked in surprise. "Huh."

Apparently his act of desperation had done something after all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time flies when you're flailing through pre-canon.

Considering everything that was going on, the work and training and keeping an ear open for any information, it wasn't a surprise that his birthday came and went without notice until halfway to his next one.

It felt like he blinked and a year passed; he put his mountain-climbing on hold and spent most of his time training, fighting the jungle animals (Did you know there was a Deer King? Thing was so strong that its charge made it through his Armament and broke his arm!) and practicing his newly-discovered Moonwalk. He was only able to make it half the length of a football field, but it was progress!

So really, it was understandable that he forgot he'd let slip what day his birthday was to Annie. Which was why he would forever deny that the sound he made was a squeak when he walked through the door of Annie's shop, idly wondering why the lights were off, and several voices yelled, "Surprise!"

The lights clicked on, the sudden illumination causing him to blink to clear the spots from his eyes. Once he could see clearly, he saw Annie, her sister Mary, and Mary's husband Richard standing around a table, on top of which was a huge three-layered cake. It was a chocolate cake covered in bright blue icing and decorated with frosting flowers, and he wasn't ashamed to admit that he teared up a bit as Annie guided him over to the table.

He'd never really celebrated his second life's birthday beyond knowing when it was and Rebecca occasionally stealing a little something extra for him, so he was feeling both shocked and delighted as he looked at the cake.

"It wouldn't all fit up here, so the rest of the food is in the back," she told him, causing him to blush and the other two to laugh, all of them well acquainted with his appetite. He couldn't help it, it was a D thing and he was a growing boy! The only reason he wasn't already sporting a good-sized gut was all the training he did, which he was now rather thankful for.

Blowing out the eleven candles stuck into the cake, he couldn't stop smiling as, for the first time, he really celebrated his birthday.

The cake (and all the other food) was delicious.

* * *

He had a week to revel in being twelve before reality reared its ugly head and reminded him that puberty was a thing.

He happened to look in the mirror while brushing his teeth and saw a few thin, barely there hairs on his jaw. He promptly dropped his toothbrush in profound horror. No. Just _no_. Teach's epithet ran through his head, and in that moment he swore that he would not _ever grow a beard, by Davy Jones!_

Minutes later, he ran to the barbershop to purchase a razor, barely even noticing that his voice cracked while he told the clerk what he wanted. He could deal with embarrassment, what he could _not_ deal with was having any sort of facial hair. Once he had the razor and shaving cream in hand, he headed straight to Mary's house to ask Richard some important questions.

Shaving turned out to be a headache and a half, and by the time he was done his jaw was raw like he had the sunburn from hell and just as red. Still, those hated hairs were gone and he was content with that. The growing pains and cracking voice? Those he could do without, he sighed.

Marshall proceeded to work out his residual panic over running headlong into puberty on the local bobcat population.

He and Annie's family ate well for the next two months.

* * *

His first encounter with the Bobcat Boss came on the heels of his first breakthrough with Moonwalk.

He was still high on success when his Observation trilled a warning, and he leapt forward just in time to dodge the claw swipe that would have taken off his head. He might have used a small Moonwalk to get a bit of extra distance between him and the large cat, but so what? He wasn't showing off, really!

The Bobcat Boss was larger and faster than the others he'd hunted, but he welcomed the challenge. The shiny black of Armament coated his skin as he grinned savagely, an expression matching the bobcat's baring of teeth. "Come on, Fluffy, show me what you can do!" He taunted, voice breaking in the middle but who cared? Certainly not the cat.

The bobcat roared and the battle was on, fast-paced and brutal.

His clothes were shredded by the end of it, but his body was mostly intact thanks to his haki, with the exception of some fairly deep gashes along his left side and leg from where he misjudged the cat's reach and didn't get out of the way fast enough. The pain didn't matter; what mattered is that he _won_! He cheered, throwing his arms up in victory and, from the depths of his soul, _laughing_.

" _ZEHAHAHAHAHAHA!_ "

* * *

He was in a good mood as he dragged the carcass of the cat boss back to Annie's store, but that changed when he got close enough to hear shouting coming from inside. He dropped the body he was carrying and immediately ran inside, his haki telling him that there were four people inside, one of which was Annie.

He burst in and took in the situation at a glance; Annie backed up against the counter, some pompous asshole looming over her and looking like the definition of sleazy. The two watching the scene looked bored, obviously hired muscle. "What the hell _is going on here_?!" His voice broke at the end, but it still caused the three men to turn towards him in surprise. He used that to his advantage, lunging towards Sleazy Guy first (the toughs were armed, but only with knives and not the throwing kind so they'd still need to get close in order to attack-).

Sleazy went down hard, a single punch to the jaw knocking out him and some teeth. Annie didn't ask questions, rolling over the counter and taking cover behind it as the muscle snapped out of their surprise and charged at him. Thug One got his arm broken when he overextended on a stab, but Thug Two was smarter, hanging back and evaluating the situation. Marshall used his height to his advantage, flipping and tossing the two thugs around the shop when they tried to tag-team him. He winced whenever glass broke under their weight, but there wasn't a lot he could do with the store so cluttered.

Broken Arm gave in first. Blood pouring from a gash in his forehead, he shouted, "Fuck this!" And bolted. Thug Two, or Knify, since he seemed to actually know how to use it, took one last shot that promptly lost him his namesake and apparently decided that discretion was the better part of valor. He grabbed his unconscious employer by the leg and bolted, Sleazy's head hitting the leg of what seemed like every table in the store before the three were gone.

(He heard the screams and curses when the thugs almost ran into the body he'd left outside and felt rather proud of himself.)

"Thanks, Marshall, if you hadn't shown up someone might of gotten hurt-" Annie started, crawling out from behind the counter, and her words were abruptly cut off when she saw the blood covering his left side.

" _Dear sweet Calypso what happened?!_ " Annie shrieked, running for the First Aid Kit.

He could only smile sheepishly in the face of Annie's panic and offer up, "It's a long story?"

The scowl she sent him would have looked right at home on a Sea King and let him know that that answer was _not_ going to cut it.

Obediently sitting still as Annie tended to his injuries, he sighed. Oh well, it was worth a try.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Info-dumps and SITeach trying a bit of honesty on for size.

Sleazy's name was actually Fifillo Archibald, Annie told him as they cleaned up the mess from the fight after she got done treating his injuries.

"His family was one of the first to settle on this island, just like mine was, and somehow he got it into his head that that means we should get married," Annie sighed, "that's when he started making a nuisance of himself; before that we were just passing acquaintances. The reason he gave when I asked why he was being so persistent was something like 'unifying our families since both are pillars of the community and have such a long history on the island'." She shrugged half-heartedly.

"What do you think the real reason is?" He asked, since it sounded like there was more to the story.

"Well, my sister thinks it has something to do with an old story that's been passed down in my family," Annie admitted. "Legend has it that my twenty-times great grandfather was actually a pirate; he and his crew ran aground while pursuing a merchant ship that was carrying several million Beri in cargo and the ancestors of half the other families on the island. Both ships were too badly damaged to make it to the nearest civilization, stranding both crews on Orango."

"With no choice, they worked together to build shelters, the pirates invaluable in fending off the native bobcats. The story goes that by the time a passing ship saw the signal fires on the beach, none of the stranded men and women wanted to leave, having started new lives on the island that they named Orango in honor of the pirate captain who saved them, and my family carries his name to this day." Annie finished.

"That doesn't explain Sleazy wanting to marry you," he pointed out, the name causing Annie to snort in laughter. Then he asked curiously, "Your name is Orango?"

Annie blinked, "I never told you? My name is Orango Annie."

"Huh." And because Annie was being honest with him, shouldn't he be at least a little honest with her? "My name is Marshall D. Teach." He admitted.

"Huh." Annie echoed. "...Why do you go by Marshall?" People didn't usually go by their last names, after all.

"Because Teach isn't who I want to be." He said sincerely, the truth ringing in his voice.

Annie smiled in understanding. "Anyway, a few generations later a rumor started that my ancestor buried his treasure somewhere on the island and it's hung around ever since," she concluded. "Archie probably believes it though, seas know why."

"There anything to it?" He asked.

Another shrug. "Who knows?"

* * *

It was during a brawl down at the docks that he came to the realization that he needed a haircut. Since the fight in Annie's store, he'd taken to wandering the port and surrounding bars to get more experience in fighting humans instead of wild animals. It was a change, but not an impossible one. Two weeks later and he already had the beginnings of a reputation.

He happened to get caught in the middle of two crowds of drunken sailors when they staggered out of the bars. He didn't know who threw the first punch, but a minute later the fight was on. He was having fun until his bangs got in his eyes and he had to rely on his haki to dodge various sword swings. He blew out a puff of air, clearing his line of sight for a few seconds before the hair fell back into place.

He was glad that he'd kept in the habit of coating his hair in Armament. That habit saved his life; he was kicking one drunk away when another pulled a knife and jumped at his back. His hair reached almost to the bottom of his shoulders, and the knife's angle meant it stabbed right at the middle of the black strands.

A loud _snap_ and half the blade broke off, spinning away to bury itself in the leg of one of the drunk's friends. The drunk was still staring blankly at the broken blade when an uppercut sent him into lights out.

Damn it, he grumbled as the sailor hit the ground. Turning on his heel, he left as the fight started winding down.

A plus side to his worry over Sleazy Archie trying anything to Annie while he was training was an increase in his Observation haki's range. He could sense Annie over at Mary's house, happy and relaxed, and there was no one else in the store as he made his way to his room above it. He still had the blade Knify had left behind; it was a good blade, and it occurred to him that he'd need to learn to use a weapon besides his fists at some point. A knife was as good a choice as any to start with, and the very next day Annie had presented him with a sheath for it.

Now he unsheathed it, examining his reflection in the polished blade critically. Then he grabbed a chunk of his bangs, releasing his haki as he started cutting. The result was a small pile of hair at his feet and an uneven edge where he'd cut the curtain of hair in front of his eyes, but he could see clearly and that was what counted.

Why go to a barber when this worked just as well?

* * *

It turned out there was something to the rumor about the Orango family treasure, he learned a few days before his thirteenth birthday. He was a few inches over seven foot tall and still growing, his appetite bigger than ever as he resumed his mountain-climbing. Today he coated both his hands and the muscles of his legs with Armament (it was a new thing he was trying), so it seemed as good a time as any to finally climb the mountain. If he happened to fall, he had a somewhat passable Moonwalk so he'd probably be fine.

He was sweating by the time he reached the halfway point, and panting for breath by the three-quarters mark, but he kept going. And then, right as the sun began to set, a hand rose over the edge of the summit and dug haki-darkened fingers into the soil there.

Marshall heaved himself up onto the hard ground of the mountaintop. He sprawled out on his back gasping for breath, grinning like a loon at the bright reddish orange sky. He made it, _he really made it_!

Looking around curiously, he was somewhat disappointed to see that there wasn't a lot there. Just dirt and a few bushes and a weird pile of rocks-

Wait. He narrowed his eyes at the rocks, pushing himself up to sit cross-legged. The position of the stones was strange, too evenly placed. It was like someone had stacked them up...and maybe they had. The rocks looked like they'd been there for a long time, heavily weathered but the positions were unnatural. The whole stack was shaped like a lopsided pyramid, a few stones having shifted from their places over time.

He spent a while enjoying the view of the sunset before getting up to take a closer look at the stack of rocks. Close-up it was obviously manmade, and when he removed a few stones he found an old, rusted metal box. It wasn't that big, he saw, just a little over the size of a hardcover book. Pulling it out, he examined the lock on it, judging it to be easy enough to break but holding off on that until he got done examining the area around the rocks. If the stones had been placed as long ago as he was starting to suspect they'd been, it was possible that they were meant to be a version of 'X marks the spot'.

Deciding to find out, he darkened his arms with haki and started digging at the base of the marker. It was fully night by the time he quit, but in that time he managed to unearth three good-sized treasure chests and his instincts were telling him there was more to be found. If the buried treasure was what he thought it was, he was going to hold off on digging until he could talk to Annie.

He took the rusted box with him when he headed back towards town. It had been hidden in the rocks instead of buried, so it was probably important.

* * *

Annie took the news that her houseguest had discovered the lost treasure of Orango surprisingly well. She only fainted once.

The rusted box turned out to contain Captain Orango's logbook, miraculously preserved. Despite the time and elements, the book was in decent condition and still very much readable. A cursory look revealed that it told the tale of Orango's pursuit of the merchant ship _Orestes_ , which carried not only goods and passengers but also slaves. Captain Orango was determined to capture the ship, so much so that he chased it straight into the jaws of a New World maelstrom. Somehow both ships wrecked on the same island, the _Orestes_ having been torn practically in two but with most of the passengers and slaves alive. The actual crew of the _Orestes_ , on the other hand, had abandoned ship.

Orango's own ship, the _Barracuda_ , was in moderately better condition. Though lacking a mast or rudder and with several gaps in the hull, his shipwright judged it repairable if they took the needed supplies from the survivors of the _Orestes_. Because his entire goal had been saving the slaves aboard the merchant vessel, he wasn't about to take away the things they were using to survive, so he instructed his shipwright to do what he could to rig up something that would at least get them to an inhabited island.

The repairs took several weeks, Orango faithfully noting down the events of each day, chronicling how the former slaves and passengers had begun to work together, building makeshift huts and salvaging what they could from the debris that washed ashore. The doctors of the _Orestes_ and _Barracuda_ soon found out that several plants on the island had various medical properties, and the discovery of fruit trees eliminated the fear of scurvy. The pirate crew fended off the attacks of several deer and bobcats, using the pelts to make tents and roasting the meat for food.

Finally the work was done a month later, a patchwork ship having been put together from the remains of the two ships. It would hold to the next island, the shipwright warned, but only if the weather was fair. By then Orango had a decision to make. The ship was no longer big enough to hold all the people and still sail, and there was a chance they wouldn't make it to another island at all, so what should he do? Who should he choose to leave behind? He himself was reluctant to leave, having grown fond of this peaceful island in the New World. After gathering the people together and explaining the situation, Orango let them decide what was to be done. In the end, they decided that no one was to take the risk, and instead signal fires would be set up along the shore.

It was indeed a safe solution, as they need not fear either hunger or thirst on the island, and so it was done. At his heart, however, Orango was still a pirate, and without anyone's knowledge took his share of the treasure that survived the wreck and buried it on top of the mountain on the south side of the island, secure in the knowledge that of all those on the island, he was the only one strong enough to cross the jungle and climb the mountain.

The log ended with the mention of Orango's growing feelings for the woman who organized the passengers and former slaves when they first wrecked and the sighting of sails on the horizon.

Annie closed the book softly, clearing her throat. "Well," she said, pausing and then trying again, "Well. That was...interesting." Her knuckles were white where she gripped the sides of the book.

"I dug up three chests before it got too dark, and there's probably more, so it looks like that legend you told me is true," he offered.

She hesitates, looking down at the book in her hands pensively. "Looks like it," she breathed, then straightened up, "while the money would be good, I'm not exactly hurting for it, so I think it can stay where it is. It's been fine so far, after all." Then she smiled, clutching the logbook to her chest. " _This_ is a real treasure."

And yeah, he couldn't deny that.

What he didn't expect was Annie to look over at him and say, "You know, since you found it, it's only fair that you get to keep some of it,"

What could he say to that except, "...Thanks?"

* * *

Annie never told anyone that the rumor of Orango's treasure had been confirmed, and he also kept his mouth shut.

He left the treasure chests where they were, reburying them after digging up the other seven chests and making sure they were intact. He had no idea what was in them and Annie felt no need to find out, saying he could just pick five whenever he wanted.

The logbook was kept at Mary's house.

(Annie's sister took one look at the book and crowed, "I knew it!")


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SITeach sets out on a journey, on purpose this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this seems to be the most asked question, I'll answer it here.  
> Question: why is this story marked complete?  
> Answer: so I don't feel pressured to update, looking at that question mark and feeling guilty.  
> Hope that helps! :)

On his fourteenth birthday, Annie gave him a tri-needle Log Pose.

He looked at her in surprise, and Annie smiled a touch sadly, "We both know you aren't going to stay on Orango, so I figured I'd better make sure you had what you needed before you set out." Suddenly she threw her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly, "Thank you for everything, Marshall," she choked out, her voice sounding wet. He was tearing up a bit himself as he hugged her back, bending down to accommodate her smaller height.

(He was almost nine feet tall at that point, so there was definitely a size difference.)

His voice had _finally_ finished breaking about a week prior, so it he couldn't even blame puberty when his voice cracked as he said, "No, thank _you_. Helping you move things around and punching some jerks in the face was the least I could do after you helped me so much."

Annie laughed wetly, sniffling as she stepped back and rubbed her sleeve across her eyes as he strapped his new Pose to his wrist, sniffing back tears of his own. He'd been on Orango Island for three years by now and it was safe to say that he was a bit attached, especially to Annie and her family. She'd helped him a lot when he landed at Orango, and he would have been lying if he hadn't entertained thoughts of putting down roots there...but that wasn't him, he'd realized. It was why he'd learned all he could about sailing and navigating and keeping a ship in order. He _wanted_ to go out to sea, he realized. He might not want to be a pirate or Marine, but he wanted to get stronger, and the way to do that was sail.

If the original Teach could get strong enough to take on Shanks, then so could he!

(Not that he planned to fight Shanks, but the point stands!)

(...Why did he feel like someone, somewhere was laughing at him?)

He still had the rowboat he'd escaped from his home island with, hull freshly resealed and ready to sail at a moment's notice. He'd made some modifications over the years with help from some of the local shipwrights - the addition of a mast and sail, for one thing. He'd even managed to expand it until it was large enough to support a decent-sized cabin and give him enough room to stretch out on the brand new deck. It wasn't really a rowboat anymore, come to think of it. It sent a small pang through his chest, but he would have to leave Orango soon.

Annie knew and understood that, and so they spent his fourteenth birthday having as much fun as possible, Mary and Richard stopping by briefly to drop off their presents. Richard gave him a razor-sharpening kit and Mary handed him several shirts that didn't look like they were about to split across his shoulders with a wink and a grin. If the couple's eyes looked a little misty, he couldn't very well say anything considering how he had to turn around and blow his nose no less than three times during their visit. It was without a doubt one of the best birthdays he'd had. He put off climbing the mountain to pick out his five chests of treasure, wanting to enjoy the celebration a little while longer.

* * *

The morning of August 4th, he went up the mountain, half climbing and half using Moonwalk just for fun. He reached the summit, looking around at the previously disturbed earth and following his instincts as he picked out the chests he wanted. He had to take them down one at a time, not wanting to risk damaging the contents. The repeated trips took some time, but he got everything down without incident. He gave some thought to looking inside the aged, dirty containers now, but decided not to.

Best to let it be a surprise, he thought as he lugged the chests towards his boat, making sure to keep out of sight so no one got any ideas. For someone of his size, he was surprisingly good at sneaking even without utilizing haki as an early alarm system.

(It explained _so much_ about a certain Canon Event That Would Never Happen if that was a trait he shared with the original Teach.)

After putting the chests in his boat-cabin, carefully hidden beneath a pile of blankets and bobcat pelts so it looked like another bed, he hugged Annie, Mary and Richard goodbye. He wouldn't be setting sail from the docks, instead casting off a little further down the coastline, and the three people had come to see him off. He was dressed in one of his new shirts, plain white with long sleeves, pants that ended midway down his calves, and a pair of worn sandals. His hair was kept out of his eyes by an improvised bandana (made out of the sleeve of one of his old shirts), and his jaw was freshly shaved and his teeth brushed.

He was ready to set out.

Waving back at the trio on the beach, he consulted his new Log Pose, adjusted the sail and rudder, and cast off. He didn't look back as Annie called out from the shore and wished him luck, but he did raise one arm in a backwards wave as the breeze caught the sail and the boat leapt forward.

He tilted his head back and smiled as he looked up at the sky. It really was a beautiful day to start a journey...

* * *

It was barely a week later that he encountered his first Sea King, a massive wall of pink and green scales rising from the water right in front of his boat, literal waterfalls running down its body as it turned to look at him. Far from being frightened, Marshall grinned, viewing this as an opportunity to test his skills.

If he couldn't defeat even one Sea King, then he had no chance in the New World. He jumped from the deck of his boat, using Moonwalk to get closer to the monster's face as he drew back an arm, the skin dark with Armament. The Sea King looked at the wild grin on his and started to sweat, large pupils turning into tiny dots of fear.

" _Zehahaha!_ "

As it turned out, once he figured out how to cook it, Sea King really was as delicious as Canon would have you believe.

His trip was off to a great start!

* * *

He spoke too soon. A day later, staring at the freckle-faced girl standing proudly on the beach in front of him with her hands on her hips, the flower in her hair bright red against the blonde strands, his thoughts were best summed up as:

"...What?"

The girl beamed at him, fifteen years if she was a day, and said, "You should join my crew!"

" _Whaaaaaat?!_ "


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SITeach tries to avoid trouble. Trouble laughs and bitch-slaps him.

Her name was Portgas D. Rouge, she was fifteen years old, from an island in the South Blue, and she was going to be a pirate. How did Marshall know this? She told him so. _Repeatedly_.

"For the last time, I am not joining your crew!" He barked out, crossing his arms across his chest and making use of his height to glare down at her. She matched him look for look, scowling as she snapped back.

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you are!"

"Yes I am!"

"NO YOU'RE NOT!"

"Ha! I knew it!" He cackled, watching as she _froze_ , silently mouthing their argument to herself before she realized what happened, her face turning pale and then bright red. He half-expected to see steam coming out of her ears as she shrieked in frustration. Ignoring the fact that he just won an argument with a teenager using the oldest trick in the book despite not _really_ being a teenager himself, he felt rather proud as he watched her sputter while trying to think of a comeback. It was probably a good thing that they were the only ones on this stretch of beach or he would have been too embarrassed to be so childish. Finally, she stomped a foot in the sand and yelled out.

"Join my crew already!"

"No!" He retorted, before demanding, "Why do you want me to join your crew, anyway? You don't even know me!"

"You're tall and look strong!"

A pause, then, "That's it? That's the only reason?"

"...I also saw you checking your Log Pose, so you know how to navigate?" It came out slightly unsure and sounded more like a question than a fact.

He stared at her with a completely deadpan expression as he told her, each word like a boulder dropped onto her head, "You don't even know my name."

"...What's your name?"

"...Marshall D. Teach. I go by Marshall."

"See? Now I know your name!" She chirped, then squeaked at the gimlet stare he gave her in response. She blushed, kicking at the sand with a foot and grumbling.

Marshall frowned as something occurred to him and he asked, "Why do you want to be a pirate anyway? If it's just about sailing, you can do that without being a pirate."

Rouge froze mid-motion, slowly lowering the foot she'd drawn back to kick at the stretch of beach they were standing on. "You know, you're actually the first person who's ever asked me that," she said quietly, looking down at the ground. Just her tone of voice was enough for him to know that she was seeing something besides sand, lost in memories. She started to talk, sounding unsure at the beginning but gaining confidence as she spoke, "No one's ever listened when I talked before, not even if I screamed or shouted, but if I was a pirate, people would _have_ to listen, they wouldn't be able to brush me aside or pretend I didn't exist. If I become a pirate, a famous one, then no one will be able to force me to fade into the background!" Her head shot up, eyes shining with pure _resolve_ as her gaze met his with surprising ferocity.

It was that resolve that made him want to look away, heart aching, because he knew. He knew Portgas D. Rouge wouldn't achieve her dream; doomed to be a footnote in the stories of two men who would change the world. An important part of the story, but one scarcely mentioned, and that...that wasn't fair, not for a girl with so many hopes and dreams so determined to make her mark on the world.

He kept meeting her gaze, however, even as he reiterated, voice a tad softer but just as firm, "I won't join your crew, but...I hope you achieve your dream." Because if he could change things by not joining the Whitebeards, who was to say that Rouge couldn't be more than a brief scene in a flashback?

Rouge looked at him closely, brow furrowed in thought before her expression relaxed. There was a small smile on her face as she admitted, "That's not what I was hoping for...but thanks."

And so his first meeting with Portgas D. Rouge ended surprisingly amicably.

He just wished he could say the same about the second one.

* * *

He was buying the last of the things he needed to restock when the door to the bar across the street exploded into splinters and a short, stocky man flew through the opening pursued by a blonde ball of fury.

He stared, because that was Rouge. Rouge with her tank top and shorts splattered with blood and wielding a knife with impressive skill, but still Rouge. It was getting close to nighttime, but there were still enough people out and about that he wasn't the only one staring. The fifteen year-old was looming over the downed man when the guy's friends came running out of the bar. Abandoning his unpurchased supplies, thankful they were just surplus, he charged over and punched a man about to stab Rouge in the back so hard he knocked down three of his buddies.

Rouge spun around, eyes wide in shock, and they got even wider when she saw who had come running in to help her. "Marshall!" She cried out, and though he wished she hadn't said his name, whatever, it wasn't like it made a lot of difference. He was pretty recognizable, appearance-wise.

Watching Rouge fight was like a dance, she dipped and twirled in and out of striking range, knife-blade flashing so quickly it left faint afterimages in its wake. Wherever she passed, people fell to the ground crying out and clutching bleeding slashes.

He fought without haki, throwing punches and the occasional kick as he searched for an opening to grab Rouge and escape. When he couldn't find one, he made one, using short-and-stocky as a bludgeon to clear a space wide enough for him to get through. Throwing his human bludgeon aside, he bolted through the opening and hollered, "Rouge! Get a move on!"

Delighted, the girl laughed and followed after him, easily keeping pace despite his longer legs.

Shouts and curses sounded behind them, and as they ran he asked her, "So what were those guys so angry about?"

Rouge huffed, not even breathing hard as she answered, "I just got lucky during a game of cards, there was no need for them to be such sore losers!"

A moment of silence, then he deadpanned, "You cheated, didn't you?"

"Yup!"

Inwardly he swore, but outwardly he sighed, tossed Rouge over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and ran faster. The sounds of pursuit behind them faded, and he turned to head towards where he'd beached his boat. He'd already put away the supplies he bought earlier in the day, so he could set sail whenever he wanted. He had no idea if Rouge even had a boat, he realized belatedly. After a minute, he asked.

"Nope! I stowed away on a merchant ship and got off here when it docked." She informed him cheerfully, not seeming to mind hanging over his shoulder and nonchalantly confessing to being a stowaway. "I figured I'd get a crew together before getting a ship somehow," he felt her shrug. Okay then.

"I don't think that's going to happen," he commented, coming to a stop a small distance away from his boat. He let Rouge down from his shoulder, grimacing as he sees the blood left behind on his shirt from Rouge's clothes. The girl, now back on her feet, bounced in place.

"Nah, probably not," she agreed. "Guess I'll find another ship to sneak onboard, try my luck on another island. Those guys should be gone by now, so I'll go scope out the ships in port."

In the middle of the night? Yeah, he wasn't chancing that. From the little grin on Rouge's face, she knew it, too.

He sighed, gesturing towards his boat helplessly, "Welcome aboard, you little weasel."

Rouge laughed, and alright, he might have been grinning a little too. He climbed onto the boat and headed into the cabin, Rouge close at his heels. Ooh'ing and ahh'ing appreciatively, the blonde ran over and jumped on the pile of bobcat pelts, rolling and giggling as he dug out a shirt he'd outgrown and tossed it to her, telling her to wash up and change. She rolled back to her feet, snatched up the shirt and darted out, calling out, "Okay!"

He was washed up, changed into his own sleepwear, and stretched out on the bed by the time she got back. She tossed her dirty clothes aside, her sheathed knife on top of them, and yelled out, "Dibs on the furs!" He laughed, because he totally saw that coming. Surely a short sleepover wouldn't be that bad, he thought sleepily.

He woke up the next morning to find that Rouge had migrated over during the night and snuggled into his right side. Hm, comfy...

* * *

Their third meeting wasn't nearly as peaceful, unfortunately.

He ran into Rouge again almost a month and three islands later, and it was in the middle of a battle between a pirate crew and some particularly zealous Marines who could best be described as: 'collateral damage, what collateral damage?'. A small port town was on fire, civilians were screaming and fleeing to whatever shelter they could find, cannons and gunfire sounded, and both pirates and Marines were cursing as they clashed.

He was helping with the evacuation of the townspeople when from the corner of his eye he saw Rouge stab a Marine in the back and then turn around and slice a pirate's throat before they could run a young man through. Their eyes met, and they exchanged looks of understanding before turning and continuing to help where they could.

Marshall himself stabbed no less than a dozen people and made tremendous use of his Observation haki. When the fires were all put out, the Marines and pirates were gone, Rouge snuck onto his boat and silently curled up next to him, wordless tears dripping down her face. He curled his arms around her and laid back, closing his eyes.

There was really no good ending to that situation.

* * *

Their fourth meeting went better.

They both happened to be on the same island, one that catered to gamblers, and he ran into Rouge while trying his luck at the poker table.

(He was winning, by the way.)

He and Rouge wound up at the same table, silently cleaned house, and then went to a restaurant where they were subsequently banned because they ate all the food in the place. He wasn't too surprised, they were Ds after all, and Rouge just laughed before inviting him to hit the casinos.

They both left that island a _lot_ richer. He celebrated by buying a pair of proper boots and three pairs of fitting pants.

On his way off the island, he fought a Sea King. All and all it was a good day.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revenge is a dish best served a few years later.

His fifteenth year was spent learning better navigation skills and swearing at his Log Pose with occasional breaks for training.

A week before he turned sixteen, he was in a foul mood as he made port on a small island with a weird name (Tziza-something), and his mood only got worse when he caught sight of the only other ship anchored at the docks. Specifically, when he caught sight of the ship's _flag_. A black sail painted with the image of a rat's head in front of a sun. His hands slowly tightened into fists, shaking with rage.

 _The Sun Rat Pirates_. Those filthy bastards who _destroyed his home_ -!

Taking deep breaths to try and keep calm, he secured his boat to the dock furthest away from the pirate ship and jumped down onto the pier. His Observation haki was turned up as high as it could go as he made a beeline for the nearest bar, because where else would a pirate crew who had just made port go? He was proven right when he entered the the building and walked straight into a cacophony of shouts for drinks, angry yells, laughter and the sound of mugs being slammed on tables.

He'd found the right crew, he could see and sense Rat Man (actual name was Mousekatrel 'Rodent' Rattan; guy had a bounty that he'd made a point of remembering) sitting at a table in the middle of all the ruckus, still just as orange and rat-like as a few years ago. He had the same level of power as back then too, and Marshall, Marshall _didn't_. Drawing his knife, he didn't say a word as he grabbed the closest Sun Rat and drove the blade right through his gut. The room fell into a shocked silence as he pulled the knife out and the man slid to the ground, clutching the wound with a stunned look on his face.

He'd been thinking about what he'd do if he ran into these particular pirates again, and now he put thought into action, grabbing another pirate and slitting his throat with no fanfare while the rest of them were still too shocked to move.

The element of surprise didn't last long; the rest of the bar erupted into roars of fury, dozens of pirates charging forward to avenge their comrades. His own anger over his helplessness to stop the attack on his home island had been simmering for years, and now he let it all out on the ones responsible. He fought with the savagery of a wild beast, not bothering to restrain his strength as he lashed out. Soon he was up to his knees in blood and bodies, the first ones who'd charged him laying dead at his feet and the rest of the crew now much less eager to approach him.

"What are you all waiting for?! Kill him or _I'll kill you!_ " Rat Man shouted in the ensuing silence. All the barstaff had fled at the first sign of blood, so it was just him and the pirates in the building. Just the way he wanted it.

Rat Man's words galvanized the crew into action, renewed war-cries ringing in the air as they dove forward, jumping over the bodies of their fallen crewmates to get at him. Rat Man stayed where he was, but he was okay with that. It was always good to save the best for last.

Finally, when there was no one else in the bar still living but him and Rat Man, he spoke up. "That was for my island, but this? This is for _me_."

Rat Man was standing by now, one hand clenched on the back of a chair, his expression grave. He chuckled lightly, asking rhetorically, "Revenge for your island, is it? Suppose you've been watching us for years, just waiting for your chance?" He stepped away from the chair, revealing the handprint embedded in the piece of furniture as he spread his hands in mock-welcome.

"Not really." He said bluntly, the burgeoning smile on Rat Man's face freezing as he informed the pirate, "I happened to see your ship here by chance and figured that now was as good a time as any to settle a score."

Rat Man didn't like that. A vein in his forehead throbbed, smile turning into a snarl in seconds as he howled, "Settle a score? _Settle a score_? You slaughter my crew and call it _settling a score_?!" He was practically frothing at the mouth by the end.

Body contorting and swelling in size, gray fur covered his body and his head changed shape, turning into a long snout as a pink-skinned, whip-like tail lashed behind him as he revealed the reason he had a decent bounty despite being a low-level pirate (basically the Buggy of the New World, if he could use the comparison).

Mousekatrel 'Rodent' Rattan aka Rat Man had eaten the Rat-Rat Fruit. He was a Zoan, and as Marshall knew, Zoans were tough assholes...but not so tough if the one they were facing had haki. As he proved when he hit Rat Man with a haki-enhanced uppercut hard enough to knock the rat's two front teeth loose.

Grinning darkly as he loomed over the dazed rat, his voice rang out like a death knell, " _I'm going to enjoy this, rat._ "

Throwing his head back, he laughed, the sound nearly lost beneath the terrified screams that followed his proclamation.

" _ **Zehahahahaha!**_ "

* * *

When he finally left the ruined bar, the town around was completely deserted. Obviously the townsfolk had heard about the slaughter in the bar and decided to make themselves scarce. A wise decision.

By the time he'd finished with Rat Man, his formerly white shirt had been dyed a muddy red, and his pants were drenched in blood up to the knees. His knife would require a good cleaning, but he was in a much mood than he'd been when he first sailed into port. He'd also looted the bodies, because it wasn't like _they'd_ need it any more. He pocketed about five million Beri and double that in jewels and weaponry. He was carrying a sack filled with loot over his shoulder, a staff that a female Sun Rat had tried to attack him with in hand. She'd actually had some skill with the thing, but he thought that Rouge would make better use of it. It, and the flawlessly sharp dagger he'd liberated from another Rat's corpse.

He felt lighter than he had since that day when he was eleven, a bounce in his step as he hummed a tune under his breath on the way back to his boat. He'd drop off his spoils, then go hunting for supplies. He left Rat Man back in the bar, his way of paying for the damage.

The townsfolk could do what they wanted with the late pirate crew's ship, he decided. He likely couldn't fit all the treasure on it into his boat, anyway.

* * *

A few weeks after he turned sixteen, he ran into Rouge again, this time in the open sea. He was rather surprised to see that in the few months since he last saw her she'd managed to get herself a boat and the beginnings of a crew. She only had the bare bones; cook, navigator, doctor, but they all seemed loyal enough to their energetic and carefree Captain.

He only had enough time to hand Rouge her presents, laugh at the excited squeals that followed, and get midway through the introductions before there was a loud rumbling beneath the boats and his instincts _roared_.

That was the first time he experienced a Knock-Up Stream. As both his and Rouge's boats were launched into the air, he idly thought that it was a good think he'd tied the boats together. Holding onto the railing of Rouge's vessel for dear life, both he and Rouge whooped in excitement as her crew of three screamed in panic.

' _Oh gods, there's two of them!_ '


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adventure in the sky.

Both boats were sent flying thousands of feet in the air by the Knock-Up Stream and kept going higher after they reached the summit of the Stream by riding the water pressure. They hung suspended in the air for a long moment, the feeling of weightlessness both frightening and exhilarating.

He and Rouge were cackling in glee as the boats began to fall, their feet leaving the deck and the only thing keeping them on the boat was their grips on the railing. Rouge's three crewmembers were clinging to the mast and screaming their heads off. The vessels came to a jarring stop far sooner than they would have if they'd fallen back down to the ocean...the aquatic ocean, that is.

Marshall's boots landed back on the deck with heavy thuds as he admired the sight of the Cloud Sea for the first time. White, water-like clouds as far as the eye could see, a vision even more incredible in real life than it was on the screen. From the delighted gasp beside him, Rouge agreed, and he heard the creak of wood as the three-man crew cautiously let go of the mast and approached the railing. He admired the image of the White Sea for a long time, a peaceful silence descending over the five people.

Eventually he clapped, startling the other four as he stepped away from the railing. "Right, time to get down to business. Navigator, check the rudder. Cook, inspect the sails for any damage. Doctor, make sure there isn't any damage to the hold!" He instructed, the three addressed scrambling to follow instructions as he turned and jumped down to the deck of his own boat, a curious Rouge following. He inspected his vessel from top to bottom, even tying a rope around his waist and diving down into the sea-clouds to check the keel of not just his own boat but Rouge's as well.

Swimming in clouds was odd but fun, and he surfaced with a grin, waving at Rouge as she peered over the side of his boat. He did a backstroke just to show off, laughing along with Rouge as he swam over and pulled himself back onboard. They moved over to Rouge's boat and her crew gathered around to report their findings. He stretched, shaking out his wet hair as he announced, "Okay, good news is that both boat's keels are intact, and so are the rudders. Some minor damage to the hull of Rouge's boat, but nothing that a few boards won't fix and its not near anything vital. My boat has a few rips in the sides of the sail and one bit of railing torn off, but that looks like it. What concerns me is that crack in the mast on your boat, Rouge. If you don't try and make repairs, _fast_ , you're going to have some major problems."

Rouge and her crew looked worried, and that reminded him, "By the way, what are your names again?" He asked the three, who blinked and then shrugged before introducing themselves.

The navigator was a lean, dark-haired man with green eyes and glasses. A little on the shorter side, though it might have just looked like it since Marshall was currently nine foot tall and counting. His name was Cumulos Clyde, but Rouge called him Claus. His main weapons were throwing darts, and he had a talent for reading wind-currents that bordered on precognition. Very handy, that. "I'm also doubling as helmsman," Claus admitted with a grimace, which was fair, considering what a typical New World sea was like.

The cook was a woman, seven foot tall and curvaceous with a pink-and-green mohawk. She had three piercings in her right ear and five in her left and used a frying pan in battle to devastating effect. Her name was Vivilon Jane.

As for the doctor, they were a matronly woman by the name of Frieda. Short and plump, she looked like she wouldn't hurt a fly, but then, appearances could be deceiving. Rouge told him in an aside that the woman could be a holy terror when one of her patients was threatened. Always a good trait in a doctor, he thought.

"We already know who you are," Jane said cheerfully, "Captain talks about you all the time!" She waved a whisk that she'd pulled from who-knows-where for emphasis.

Frieda smiled kindly, agreeing, "It's true. For awhile we honestly thought you and Captain were _like that_."

He blinked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at a red-faced Rouge. "What exactly did you say about me?" He wondered.

Rouge sputtered in embarrassment.

* * *

In the interest of not putting undo strain on Rouge's cracked mast (they hadn't come up with a name for the ship yet, Rouge confessed, but they were working on it) or his own boat's ripped sail, he checked to make sure his boat was still securely tied to the front of Rouge's ship, grabbed the oars and started rowing.

It was a decent warm-up if nothing else, he hummed, oblivious to the way Jane and Frieda gaped at him disbelief as he singlehandedly moved both his and their vessels as he carried on a conversation with a fascinated Claus as he rowed. "I've actually heard about groups of clouds like this," he informed the navigator, "Supposedly there are even islands with people on them floating around up here - oh, and there's Sea Kings," he added as one of the sea monsters burst out of the clouds to their left. Rouge and Jane made quick work of it, the cook gutting and cleaning it in record time.

Then Rouge called down, voice eager, matching him grin for grin as she announced, "Land ho!"

Craning his neck to look behind him, sure enough, a Sky Island loomed. He ceased rowing, letting the current carry them to the shore. Jumping out and dragging his boat onto the sand, he watched as Rouge and crew dropped anchor.

"Now then, what do say we take a look around?" He asked, rubbing his hands together.

Of course, right after he said that was when the spear-wielding natives appeared and captured them.

* * *

What followed was an adventure worthy of a certain Strawhat-wearing Monkey.

The Sky Island they landed on was called Olympios, and the natives there had actual working wings. Most of them were a mix of brown, black, gray and white, but Olympios was ruled by a tyrannical King who believed that because his wings were white, that made him 'better' and he had the right to rule. All those with multi-colored wings or 'common' wings were relegated to the servant class, while those who had one-colored wings or 'greater' wings were aristocrats. Of course, the ones with white or 'pure' wings were royalty, and both the king and his children all had white wings.

The tyrant had five kids, three sons and two daughters, and it turned out that the youngest son and eldest daughter were decent enough people, but the rest were exactly like their father aka complete dicks. The eldest daughter was involved in the resistance and the youngest son actually cared about his people so yeah, nice folks.

After they were captured on the beach, they were locked in the castle dungeons on the grounds of being wingless, which was punishable by death on Olympios ( _of course_ _it was_ , he groaned), where they then managed to escape and go on the run, generally causing havoc and confusion and maybe inspiring a few people? He wasn't clear on that, he just remembered seeing Rouge talking to one of the king's soldiers but also kind of fighting him as he ran by while pursued by _other_ soldiers. Then he hid out in a storage shed for a few days telling stories to the two Sky Island kids who found him in exchange for food (apparently their mom worked in a bakery).

Then his hiding place was nearly discovered during a 'contraband check' and he was on the run again. He fought no less than _nine_ royal guards, broke into the Treasury to switch the King's Crown with a fake, and set the armory on fire during the Holy Sky Festival which was the Olympiosans most sacred holiday. He then raided the kitchen and waited until the screams of panic and denial faded before he came out. Then found out the tyrant was executed upon the reveal that the crown he was wearing was a fake and the eldest daughter then crowned Queen with the _real_ crown that had been lost for centuries.

Yeah, so it turned out he'd broken into the Treasury and swapped one fake for another because the king had already been wearing a fake crown. Whatever, he got to keep the fakes (they were still made of gold and gems and all that, just without the _history_ ) and Rouge got a marksman for her crew. It was that soldier he saw her talking/fighting with, whose name, he was informed, was Minervon. Minervon had black and gray wings, luminous blue eyes, and sleek gray hair. He had an attractive face and was around Jane's height, sleekly muscled and carrying a rifle on his back that he knew how to use, Rouge told him gleefully as she recounted her and her crew's adventures around the island.

She was the one who found the real crown, she boasted, and he pointedly ignored the glares sent his way by the guards he'd pummeled. They hadn't been expecting Moonwalk, he recalled smugly. The story boiled down to the bad guys having been beaten, the good guys winning and already the class system was being disassembled. Oh, and the deceased tyrant's other three kids were sentenced to hard labor as punishment for their actions under the old King.

_Anyway_ , the Olympiosans were so grateful for the help that they gave them all the supplies they needed to repair their ships and basically let them loot the Treasury.

"It's mostly things that father collected," the new Queen shrugged, "We never really understood his obsession with shiny objects..."

He took his share of the treasure and spent the next week going through the markets on the island. He traded some bobcat pelts for what the Olympiosans used as money and pretty much went on a shopping spree. Some things were only made on Sky Islands, and he might have gone a little crazy stocking up on Dials. He stumbled across a new kind of vision dial in the Sky Island version of a curio shop. Very few were ever made, the owner informed him, because of how expensive they were to make compared to regular vision dials. The new version recorded sound as well as moving images in contrast to just taking pictures.

So it was like a video camera, he thought, then shrugged and bought it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vacationing on a Sky Island: 10/10 would recommend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...what do you think I should name SITeach's ship? :)

Olympios turned out to make a lot of products that couldn't be found anywhere else, not even on other Sky Islands. Such as feathered cloaks made from the residents' molted feathers that were surprisingly warm and comfortable. He wound up buying two.

The Olympiosans had a special technique they used for weaving, and the resulting cloth was very durable, he learned from the tailor taking his measurements. Since he was so much taller than the man's other clientele, any clothes he ordered would have to be custom-made from scratch, but the man welcomed the challenge, or so he said. The despairing look on his apprentice's face said the man was probably the only one. He felt a tad bad for the kid, but if the Queen was going to insist on giving him and Rouge's crew discounts at all the stores on the island, he was damn sure going to take full advantage.

He was a bit embarrassed to admit that he went on a bit of a spree, combing through every store and market-stall on the island and then going through them again to see if he missed anything interesting on his first pass. He bought a waver just because it looked like fun (the swearing as the mechanics went to work on adjusting it for his height sounded oddly cheerful). He joined Rouge and her crew for lunch, which promptly turned into an eating contest between the two D's. Rouge's crew was left sitting to the side and gaping at the sheer quantity of food they put away.

A crowd of Olympiosans gathering around and placing wagers on who would win.

(Marshall won, but only because he was bigger and still growing. Rouge insisted he only won because the restaurant ran out of food while he was in the lead.)

After that was more shopping, and he spent an unusually long time trying on hats. Most of that time was spent laughing at how ridiculous he looked in them. Before he knew it, he and Rouge's crew had been there a week longer than he thought they would be, guests in the Royal Palace and essentially on vacation. Three days in he had the strangest feeling they were stalling them, but Rouge brushed it off and said he was worrying too much.

As a matter of fact, they were being stalled, but not for the reasons he thought.

* * *

When he finally bought so many things that it was hard to move around his assigned guestroom, he gathered up his bags and headed towards where his boat was docked. Only when he got there, his boat wasn't the same as it had been the last time he saw it. In fact, it bore little resemblance to his boat at all.

His boat was now the size of Rouge's caravel, the body and frame composed of gleaming white wood with the trim painted dark purple. The white mast sported a pristine flag with none of the wear that his own had accumulated. At first he thought the Olympiosans had replaced his boat with a new ship entirely, then he went below deck and saw hints of familiar wood. He found an officer's room that turned out to be his old cabin, not a pelt or chest out of place. He checked to make sure, but it looked like whoever was responsible had transplanted it whole and didn't touch anything else.

At a loss, he stowed his purchases in one of the empty rooms and wandered back up to the deck, opening the door only to be greeted by a loud cheer.

"Surprise!" A host of Olympiosans, including the Queen and her younger brother, and Rouge and her crew cheered. Right, it made sense that they were in on it, he touched his jaw in disbelief (It amazed Rouge that while everything was going on he _still_ found time to shave).

Rouge grinned broadly, and yup, definitely the ringleader. He listened in disbelief as she explained how they'd all kept him busy for a week while a group of Olympiosan shipwrights went to work on disassembling his boat and building it into a new ship. The head shipwright chortled, saying, "This beauty is made of almost a hundred percent Angel Tree Wood! Light as a feather, but strong enough to bounce back cannonballs! With the addition of the Jet Dials we installed along the back and bottom, anytime you want to visit a Sky Island you can just fly right up!"

Rouge chimed in, "They installed the same thing on our ship, which'll definitely come in handy!" For escaping, went unsaid but definitely heard.

He wasn't ashamed to admit that he sputtered a bit before shouting, "This is was too much! You already gave us all that stuff for practically free!"

That's when the Queen stepped forward, smiling as she said, "It was the least we could do, especially after you helped so much, teaching both me and my brother this amazing technique," a second of thought, and her wings turned pitch black so there would be no mistake about what she meant, "and then helping to train my guards. That alone would be worth the ship, but you also insisted on trading us those furs from the Blue Seas and Captain Rouge even traded a jar of vearth!" She shook her head, the other Olympiosans nodding along as she said, "Truly the people of the Blue Sea are generous!"

He shut his mouth, kind of wanting to know why Rouge was carrying around a jar of dirt but also not really caring. He'd mostly taught the siblings Armament out of boredom, but they'd caught on surprisingly fast. He wasn't about to _say_ that though.

(It never occurred to him that part of that was just him being a good teacher.)

Finally, he sighed and gave in. Looked like he had a ship now...that he would have to figure out how to operate without a crew.

"...Damn, I've actually got to name it now, don't I?" He wondered aloud.

Rouge and her crew roared with laughter. Oh, like they could talk! Theirs had been a ship from the start and it still didn't have a name!

* * *

The accidental vacation continued for another few days in honor of the newly created Pirate's Revelry.

"A festival celebrating our heroes," the Queen's brother - his name was Descalion or something? - explained, grinning mischievously as the pirates groaned and Marshall cackled at their misery. Apparently Rouge had the same attitude towards being called a hero as Luffy did, he was amused to discover.

The party that followed was the first thing he recorded on his new recording dial: a night of singing and dancing, fun and joy.

(The fact that he recorded Rouge's face when the Queen gave a speech was really just icing on the cake.)

* * *

Right before they left, he along with the rest of the island got to witness the christening of Rouge's ship.

Holding a bottle of liquor by the neck, Rouge gleefully exclaimed, "May this vessel carry us through thousands of adventures, through fair winds and stormy seas. I now introduce... _THE QUEEN OF SPADES!_ " with that, she smashed the bottle of alcohol against the hull, the sound of breaking glass lost beneath a rousing sea of cheers.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avoiding one kind of trouble leads to running headlong into another. Cue hijinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two chapters left before the name of Marshall's ship is set!

In hindsight, giving him a ship might not have been the best idea even though the Olympiosans meant well.

The trip out of the Cloud Sea was exciting in a different way than the trip up had been. Both he and Rouge whooped in glee, laughing as the Jet Dials on the bottoms of their ships turned their descent into a slow glide. Rouge's crew was a lot more relaxed, only clinging to the railing instead of wrapped around the mast. Her newest recruit was the most unbothered, walking around the deck and peering over the railing curiously, prompting sheepish looks from his new crewmates. The ships landed in the water with only a small jolt, the Jet Dials shutting off without anyone having to go down to the engine room and miss the view.

(He was impressed by how the controls were set up; those shipwrights were _geniuses_.)

It was only after they landed back in the New World that he realized that he would have to learn how to crew an actual ship.

By himself.

In the New World.

He sighed.

_Joy_.

* * *

The two ships drifted beside each other for a day or so; he helped Rouge sort out her loot from Olympios and enjoyed the feast that Jane whipped up in thanks.

She was a great cook, and he couldn't help wondering how she'd compare to Sanji. He figured it'd be a close call - that goulash was _incredible_.

He'd organized his own stuff before they left, moving his clothes and other things to the captain's quarters (because he had one of those now), so he spent the time learning how to manage various parts of a ship. He might have to figure out how to use Shave to pull it off, but he could do it. He also gave some thought to what he would name his ship.

...Yeah. He had nothing.

He stuck some stuff in the treasure room, keeping the four chests from Orango in his new room. He still didn't know what was in them, but whatever. They were there. Then he took inventory of his supplies and found he was running low on pretty much everything. He'd have to restock on the nearest island.

The farewell dinner on the _Queen of Spades_ was delicious, and they parted amicably.

(Rouge tossed him a Transponder Snail and shouted that he had no excuse not to keep in touch now.

He looked at it. It was green with a dark purple shell.

He named it Chuckles. The snail looked distinctly unimpressed.)

* * *

The _Moby Dick_ was anchored off the shores of the first island he stopped at. He saw both Marco and Whitebeard at the market, along with...Kozuki Oden? Yup. That was him. The hairstyle gave him away.

Marshall bought enough supplies to make it to the next island and bolted.

He was not dealing with this!

* * *

Thanks to a storm and an unanticipated encounter with a traveling dance troupe, he got to the next island a day _after_ the Whitebeards.

Damn it.

* * *

He wound up running into and running away from the Whitebeard Pirates on the next six islands he stopped at. He kept his head down, got supplies, and then high-tailed it out of there. He was pretty sure some of the crew saw him, but hopefully they wouldn't think anything of a tall guy walking quickly (not running!) away from them. Probably happened all the time.

("Hmm." Whitebeard hummed thoughtfully, watching a lad take one look at Marco while his first mate haggled with a merchant over prices, turn and run in the opposite direction.

"Everything alright, Pops?" One of his daughters asked.

"Fine, fine," he waved off, still looking after the fleeing lad.

Rather strange, but nothing to worry about.)

* * *

He decided to backtrack and take a different route to avoid going the same direction as the Whitebeards.

It was a sound plan, up until his ship nearly collided with a merchant vessel drifting aimlessly, the rudder apparently having been destroyed by a Sea King. He didn't have anything else to do, so he shrugged and helped them out, towing them to the closest island. They gave him food to thank him, so he considered it time well spent. Then they reached port and he found out this merchant group, Weatherby Inc., was feuding with a different one, Jacoby Corp., and both groups controlled half of the island he'd towed them to.

Jacoby was pissed their rivals made it back and blamed him, so he was stuck on the Weatherby side until the daughter of the head of Jacoby fell in love with the son of Weatherby's leader and he accidentally helped get them together. How was he supposed to know that that sweet girl asking for directions wasn't supposed to be on that side of the island?! He pretty much threw his hands up after that and just went with it.

The merchant companies and the island were united in the end, so it all worked out. At first he just gave a girl directions and then didn't say anything when some shady-looking guys came up and asked if he'd seen her. Somehow that turned into hiding the couple in the backroom of a bar and uncovering a conspiracy inside both companies. (The Butler really did do it, oddly enough). When it was all over, he was the best man at the wedding.

He shrugged and took a bite of cake. Yum.

* * *

He didn't want to talk about the island with the ninja squirrels.

(They stole Chuckles! He was lucky he got the snail back before they corrupted him!)

Or the one with the cult worshipping a bunny god.

(The statue was solid gold. _Why_.)

Or the one with the crazy artist who ate the Stone-Stone Fruit.

(The guy's 'models' staged the uprising, so that one wasn't _technically_ his fault. That was his story and he was sticking to it.)

On all three he left a trail of destruction in his wake, so at least he lived up to his name.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SITeach is judging Rouge's taste in men. So much judgement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, no one's submitted any suggestions for names for SITeach's ship. Does anyone read my notes? *Wonders*

Marshall was three days from seventeen and only a foot away from his full height the first time he received a call on Chuckles. After some embarrassing flailing he managed to figure out how to answer the snail.

(Which was something he never thought he'd say, even after all this time.)

It was Rouge, of course, and though he found the face-mimicking thing momentarily fascinating, he still had to sit there awkwardly for two hours as he listened to her gush over a guy she'd met who was strong as a giant, tall and dark and "dumber than a sack of cannonballs" but she didn't care because he was hot and made her laugh.

He was happy for her, he really was, but he was feeling rather uncomfortable listening to her squeal over a guy who was somewhere around twice her age...and probably a pirate. He thought he heard something about bounties during her rambling. He was just starting to wonder if he should be worried when Rouge said, "Anyway, I got out of one of the cabin boys that Roger is aiming for a treasure a few islands over - he tried to trick me of course but I got it out of him - so me and the others are going to use the Jet Dials and try to get there ahead of him and snatch it! Wish me luck!"

_Click!_

He stared at the now-silent snail, exchanging incredulous looks with the gastropod. Yes, he should _definitely_ be worried.

* * *

The first time he encountered a News Coo, he and the bird stared at each other for several minutes, the albatross perched on his ship's railing.

An awkward pause, then, "So, how's it going?"

 _Caw_...

"Not good, huh?"

 _Caw-caw_.

"Sorry to hear that." A pause, "want some salmon?"

_Caw!_

He gave the bird some fish and slipped a thousand Beri into the News Coo's money pouch, muttering, "Keep the change," as he accepted a paper.

He was pretty sure he'd just made a friend for life.

* * *

Rouge and several of her crew had bounties now, he saw as he shook out the paper for the latest bounty listings.

Portgas D. 'Queen of Spades' Rouge, worth 60 million Beri. Not bad for a beginner, especially in the New World. He had a good laugh when he saw that her epithet was the same name as her ship. Her bounty picture was a picture of her face, caught mid-cackle as she swung a staff around. He squinted; that actually looked a lot like the Sun Rat staff he'd given her...huh, looks like she'd learned to use it after all.

Cumulos 'Whirlwind' Clyde, worth 30 million Beri. His picture was a close-up of his face looking coolly towards the viewer, several knives clenched in the hand shown in the corner of the image.

'Marksman' Minervon, worth 40 million Beri. Looked like the Olympiosan was fitting in with Rouge's crew pretty well. His picture was just a side-view of his face, partially obscured by the rifle he was holding, but you could still see one vibrantly blue eye.

The one he got the biggest laugh about was 'Ferocious' Frieda, worth 20 million Beri, especially since the name did not match her bounty picture _at all_. The image they used was of the matronly woman smiling kindly towards the photographer.

They were mostly wanted for robbery and property damage, with some attempted murder on the side- wait what? He read further. Ah, they'd raided a slaving ship headed for Sabaody, freeing the 'cargo' and on the way out Rouge had stabbed the captain. That explained it.

He'd need to call and congratulate them on the decent starting bounties, maybe hunt down some presents...

He folded the paper back up, shoving it in the pocket of his new coat as he mulled over gift ideas and wandered over to adjust his ship's course.

* * *

At one point in his journey, he decided that fuck it, he was going to get blackout drunk. It may have been the anniversary of the attack on his home island and he might have been tall enough that the bartender didn't ask any questions, but that was when he had his first taste of whiskey _a_ _nd_ discovered his inhuman alcohol tolerance. He made a tidy profit off of drinking contests that day.

He tested his tolerance for liquor on and off over the years, but by the time the Sky Island adventure happened he could easily drink two tavern's worth of alcohol and walk away without even a stumble.

The point he was trying to make was that it took an insane amount of alcohol to get him anywhere _close_ to drunk, which was why it was so alarming that he couldn't remember everything that happened when he met up with Rouge again after she and her crew got their first bounties.

One minute he was laughing and chugging a bottle of rum that someone handed him, the next he was waking up on the beach with the sun shining in his eyes and his head feeling like a pissed off Sea King used it as a chew toy.

He groaned, pushing himself up with one hand and cradling his aching head with the other. He frowned, squinting in bafflement as he mentally prodded the hole in his memory.

...Why did he suddenly feel like he was regretting all of his life choices?

His blood ran cold, headache promptly forgotten as he bellowed, "Portgas D. Rouge, what in the name of Davy Jones did you do?!"

The sound of his fellow D's cackling was his only answer. Rouge ran away as he staggered to his feet, and he immediately charged after her, that devil of a woman laughing all the while.

* * *

It took the better part of two days, but he finally remembered what happened during the party (helped along by his recording dial having captured the entire thing):

He and Rouge had been sitting side-by-side in front of a bonfire her crew had started, laughing and reminiscing over when they first met and how they'd both changed, Rouge herself striking a pose and showing off how much she'd changed. She'd lost the roundness of youth, growing taller and slimmer, her hair growing longer until it brushed the backs of her thighs. She still had the same kind of flower in her hair, but that accentuated her looks; she'd become a beautiful woman, he admitted. He himself had nearly reached his maximum height, still toned and muscular and, he was proud to say, not an ounce of fat to be seen (he actually had washboard abs!). His skin was tanned dark by the sun, he still had all his teeth, and at some point while he wasn't paying attention, his hair had grown to the point that the tips reached the top of his backside.

They were both wearing sailor-worthy attire, Rouge a soft pink button-up and light brown trousers tucked into the tops of knee-high boots and he a white sailor's shirt, a dark purple sash, and dark brown, almost black pants that disappeared into the tops of a snazzy pair of Sea King-skin boots. Highly water resistant. He still wore a bandana to keep his bangs out of his eyes, more from habit than anything else, and he kept a sheathed knife tucked into his sash. Rouge carried her staff with her, not bothering with a harness.

He'd smiled, saying somewhat wistfully, "We did alright, didn't we?"

Rouge grinned back, agreeing, "Damn right we did!" She looked over her partying crew, which had grown by six members, four women and two men (one of which was a wolf Mink). Her eyes shone with pride as she looked at them before her gaze turned thoughtfully to the man next to her. The stirrings of a plan formed in her mind, her eyes gleaming, but unfortunately he was so engrossed in watching the party that he didn't notice.

As the night wore on, Rouge kept refilling his drink as the two of them exchanged stories - he teased her unmercifully about being named after her ship, and they shared a high-five over Rouge managing to snatch not only one but _two_ treasures from under Roger's nose.

He was completely hammered by the time the party started winding down and absently wondering where Rouge got her alcohol when the woman pulled out a new bottle along with two cups. It looked a little like sake, but he couldn't seem to remember why that was important as she filled both cups.

"Drink up!" Rouge beamed, the flush of alcohol bringing a touch of redness to her cheeks and highlighting her freckles.

In his drunken state, he didn't see any reason not to, and he knocked back the sake without a moment's hesitation, Rouge following suit.

Now, he loomed over an only slightly repentant Rouge, arms crossed and an apoplectic look on his face. Rouge nudged the sand with the toe of one boot, pouting as she defended herself, "Come on, we're both Ds! Practically siblings already! I just...made it official." She finished lamely.

"If that was anywhere close to true, it would make your crush _deeply_ disturbing." He retorted, for which she had no rebuttal.

A tense silence descended, and he let it drag on long enough she started to look nervous before he said, "You owe me so much, not just for that but for making me listen to you gush about your crush, which by the way I am judging you _so hard_ about."

Indignant, Rouge opened her mouth, but before she could speak he narrowed his eyes. " _So much judgement_."

"....Fair." Rouge begrudgingly admitted, shoulders slumping in defeat.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rouge asks a question, and SITeach doesn't explain very well. Rouge might or might not be psychic.

Once the hangover faded, Marshall was reintroduced to Rouge's newest crewmembers.

There was Darrow Wildred, a dark-skinned woman built like a brick shithouse and almost as tall as he was. She wore her dark green hair in a combination of cornrows and dreadlocks, the color matching that of her wary eyes. Sporting some rather impressive scars on her upper arms, she had an air of 'fuck with me and die'. She was the new helmsman, much to Claus's relief, and her preferred weapons were her fists.

Hollybell Daisy was the new scout; the pixie-like girl had eaten the Bird-Bird Fruit, Model: Sparrow and was one of the most upbeat people he'd met in this world to date. Considering where Rouge recruited her (from one of the slave ships she'd raided), her attitude was pleasantly surprising. She was shorter than Rouge by almost a foot with her light blonde hair cut into a short bob and her light hazel eyes sparkling with humor. She and Wildred were apparently best friends, with Daisy often being found perched on the other woman's shoulder in either human or bird-form.

Moonshine Lykan was the wolf mink...and also the one in charge of brewing all the alcohol on the Queen of Spades. He didn't know why his sister-in-liquor decided she needed a personal brewer, but he couldn't very well argue with the results. The mink's fur was a blend of gray, black and hints of red and also absurdly comfortable to sleep on. His dark eyes were kind and gentle most of the time, but Rouge admitted he was still learning to control his Sulong form, and when he transformed he could get a little crazy. He was the same height as Jane, as his main weapon seemed to be martial arts, with some... _variation_...when he was intoxicated.

(The mink knew the Drunken Fist. Cool.)

Kimberly was an angelfish mermaid, eleven foot tall including her tail, which was a shimmering pink color that matched her hair and eyes. Curvaceous and all-around gorgeous, he could admit that she lived up to the mermaid legend. She was the designated swimmer of the crew and in charge of making sure no Devil Fruit users drowned. Also, she was a treasurer and part-time seamstress.

("A fish of many talents," he muttered.

"Yup," Rouge agreed.)

Laganda Shamari was dressed like a dancing girl from Alabasta and was the dancer/singer of the crew, so it made sense. She had golden tanned skin, burgundy eyes, and soft red hair that went down to her thighs. She was Claus's height and insanely curvy, every movement a seduction. Since she'd eaten the Boil-Boil Fruit, he figured it was best not to get too close. Gold jewelry glinted around her wrists, neck and ankles.

Tabitha was the crew's musician, a pale skinned wisp of a woman with curly black hair and gothic makeup. Black nail polish, black lipstick, the works. Her eyes were dark and outlined in smokey eyeliner, dreamy yet focused as if she was looking at something no one else could see. Dressed in black from neck to heels, she reminded him of Morticia from the Addams Family, but _damn_ could she play the violin.

Jane now had an assistant chef, Mirabelle Linda. Older and rounder like Frieda, she was a jolly woman; quick to laugh and always ready with a smile. Her specialty was fruits and vegetables, she confided, and she was experimenting with growing fruit trees on ships without the aid of Devil Fruits. So not just a chef, but also a gardener. She favored bright sundresses with aprons over them, the aprons often stained with a variety of fruit juices and soils. She had bright red hair, green eyes, and freckles. Her curves had curves and she was one of the sweetest women he'd met. She reminded him a lot of Annie, and damn if he wasn't homesick. Also, she could hold her liquor surprisingly well. Her and Lykan were best friends.

Last but not least was Haroldic Stephen, the shipwright. Eight feet tall and the shape of a bodybuilder, Stephen was bald, covered in scars, and tended to walk around shirtless so a lot of said scars were visible. His eyes were light blue, and he was a jovial person, though his smiles were rather frightening due to the scars on his face. Sometimes he wore a blacksmith's apron and gloves (his hobby was metalworking, Rouge informed him), and he confessed to occasionally dabbling in engineering.

Marshall greeted them all, about to introduce himself, but was stopped when Daisy chirped from Wildred's shoulder, "We know who you are!"

Wildred nodded, "Yeah, the captain talks about you a lot,"

Jane cleared her throat and said, grinning, "Don't worry, we cleared up the misunderstanding."

Minervon nodded.

He stood there for a minute and then turned to ask Rouge helplessly, "What do you tell people about me?"

Rouge looked to the side and whistled innocently, not answering.

* * *

Marshall had a decision to make. A very important decision he'd been putting off.

Yes, he was finally going to name his ship.

He had a list of possibilities, and yeah, he was kind of reaching when he came up with some of them, but they couldn't all be awesome, he mentally grumbled. He looked over the list in his hand, then up at his ship critically. Hmm. His ship didn't look like a Silverfish (white and purple, not silver), so that was out. Ditto on Lagom. Wanderer didn't fit either, but Metanoia had potential. He went over each option carefully.

Three hours later, he was down to two options. His brow was furrowed in thought, torn between the choices but determined to pick one.

Finally, he closed his eyes, took a breath, and made his choice. Folding the paper and picking up the paint he'd prepared, he got to work.

* * *

"You named your ship _what_?!" Rouge demanded, aghast. Her crew shared the sentiment. He just grinned as the others stared up at his ship in bewildered shock.

"What?" He defended, "It fits!"

Spelled out in dark purple paint was his ship's name: _The Coddiwomple_.

* * *

He didn't know how, but somehow he was talked into making Rouge a bracelet. He knew some glassmaking because of Annie, mostly small stuff like decorative beads and vials, but he was pretty good at it.

The glass beads he made from the beach sand on the island they were on were a mix of bright indigo and vivid pink, sparkling brightly like polished gems. He carefully drilled holes through the middle of the beads, stringing them together with some threads he'd bought on Olympios. It turned out pretty well, if he did say so himself. The bracelet was made in such a way that it would break if grabbed during a fight, which he was proud of. The finished product was a string of alternating indigo and pink beads on white thread.

He gave the finished bracelet to Rouge and smiled at her gleeful expression. Aside from being glad she liked it, he thought that was the end of it.

(A few months later, Rouge's new wanted poster had her posing in a way that showed off her new bracelet.

Rouge was laughing when she called him later that week because Roger saw her new accessory, got jealous, and tried to not so subtly ask who gave it to her. Her whole crew was keeping quiet and it was driving Roger crazy, she told him.)

* * *

"Hey Marshall, mind if I ask you something?"

Turning to look at Rouge, he shrugged, "Sure, go ahead."

"It's actually something I've been wondering for awhile," Rouge started, "but...why are you so obsessed with shaving? I don't think I've ever seen you with so much as a bit of stubble."

He opened his mouth to answer, then paused, closing it again as he thought. He couldn't exactly say that it was because he didn't want to run the risk of getting the original Teach's epithet. He'd worked hard since before puberty to make sure he looked as little like Blackbeard as possible, last thing he needed was to get slapped with the guy's name. Finally, he settled on, "Before I set out on my journey, I swore that I would never grow facial hair of any kind."

Rouge looked at him silently, then decreed, "I bet that not only will you one day grow facial hair, you'll even get named for it."

(A number of years later, he'll look back on this conversation and swear.)


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SITeach sets sail, opens those chests from Orango, and beats up people. Oh, and he turns eighteen, not necessarily in that order.

Nothing lasts forever and eventually the party wound down. He said his goodbyes and set sail on his newly-named ship, more relaxed than he'd been in a long time.

A week later, the pleasant buzz of spending time with a friend was gone because aside from that first day, it seemed like some higher power had it out for him. He sighed, pulling his bandana from his head and wringing it out as the sudden storm he'd been caught in disappated. He brushed back his soaking wet hair, grumbling as he wrung it out and a small lake's worth of water poured onto the deck. This was the seventeenth such storm he'd encountered since he left the island, and by the third one he'd wound up figuring out the Paper Arts through sheer self-preservation. New World storms were not to be messed with.

Putting his bandana back on, he scanned his surroundings with a careful eye. There were three islands visible in the distance, which he was fairly certain weren't supposed to be there. He checked the Log Pose, clicking his tongue in annoyance; the storm had blown him majorly off course. He tried to remember if any of his maps mentioned a trio of islands close together and came up blank. Hmm, should he or shouldn't he?

A moment's thought and threatening rumble from the sky was all it took for him to sigh. Patting the railing, he said aloud, " _Fine_ , I can take a hint. Looks like it's time for a break, Coddi." Several boards creaked - as if in agreement - and he headed to the wheel to steer them towards the nearest island.

* * *

It turns out that the three islands were populated by cannibal berserkers.

He _really_ wished he was joking.

Friendly and welcoming on the surface, he knew something was up when he was reminded of the Straw Hats' welcome on Whiskey Peak in the future. Honestly, he thought they were just planning to rob him. They invited him to a welcoming feast for guests, and he agreed so he didn't have to fight anyone while he was still soaked from the storm. He left the Coddiwomple anchored offshore and followed the people back to their village. Mental alarms started blaring when the daughter of the tribal chief of the island he'd landed on pressed herself against his side and hissed in his ear, " _Run!_ "

Confused, he didn't have time to react before the food was served, the meat dishes putting out a disgustingly familiar scent. Feeling sick as certain pieces began to click into place, certain comments the villagers made abruptly began taking on a more sinister meaning. When the tribal chief frowned and asked why he was only eating the fruit dishes, he patted his stomach and lied through his teeth, "Can't eat meat, sorry to say. Messes me up something awful."

The tribal chief frowned some more but accepted his excuse and turned back to watch a bunch of villagers dancing.

Mentally, Marshall sighed in relief. Saved by his bluffing skills.

He did drink a lot of the local alcohol, unfortunately he couldn't get out of that, but his insane tolerance served him well and even with the drugs added to the liquor he just stumbled a little when he walked, his haki making up for the double-vision. He _really_ didn't like the way the chief and villagers were looking at him...

That was when the tribal chief's daughter caught him trying to slip away and instead of ratting him out, she grabbed his arm and tugged him after her into the shadows of the forest. Fifteen minutes later, she stopped and whipped around to face him. "You need to run!" She hissed desperately, "I don't know why the drugs didn't work, but you need to take this chance to escape!"

He blinked, taking longer than usual to absorb that because, "I thought you were dragging me out here to kill me," he admitted.

"No! I'm trying to save you!" She glared, "You have no idea what happens on this island when outsiders come!" She still had a hold on his wrist, and he felt her grip tighten. It was like a dam burst and her words came pouring out, the entire sordid history of the three islands. "There are three tribes, one on each island. The people used to be normal once, but over the years they changed, becoming more monstrous in order to survive. How monstrous was only revealed when one year a plague swept through the islands, wiping out almost all the animals. That same year a drought caused the fruit trees to wilt. The tribes nearly died out...and it would have been better if they had!" Tears of hopelessness and despair glittered in her eyes, but they didn't fall. Somehow, he had the feeling that she was used to holding back tears.

While she spoke, he took a long look at her. Like the rest of her tribe, she had long, wild dark red hair like a lion's mane. Her eyes were a bright, toxic yellow (poisonous gold, he thought), almost glowing against the backdrop of her darkly tanned skin. She was of average height, five to five and a half feet tall, somewhere in that area. Busty and curvaceous, he saw what she meant about her people becoming monstrous - her fingers were tipped in claws, and when she spoke he caught glimpses of fangs. Not like vampire fangs, full on beast fangs. Since she was barefoot, wearing only a fur bikini top and wrap-around skirt, he could see that she had claws on her toes as well.

'Wildly attractive' would be a good way to describe her, he thought, listening as she told the story of how her people had slowly turned to cannibalism to survive and then just never stopped when the famine was over. "The strong eat and the weak are meat," she muttered, the words carrying the tone of something oft repeated. He could hear the pain buried in her voice and huh, it turned out she was actually a decent person.

"What's your name?" He asked abruptly, now pretty much sober. He smiled when her head shot up and she stared at him in stunned surprise.

"...Vertara. It means 'ferocious' in the ancient language." She answered.

"Nice to meet you, Vertara. My name is Marshall D. Teach. You can call me Marshall." He grinned down at her. "Hey, while you're showing me how to get around the sentries keeping an eye on my ship, how about I show you something cool?..."

And that's how he wound up teaching a cannibal princess how to use Armament Haki.

* * *

Unfortunately, things did not go as planned once they got to the small cove he was supposed to swim out of the get to his ship. Her father was waiting there with the rest of her tribe, and the two of them were surrounded.

"I'm disappointed in you, Vertara." The tribal chief rumbled, "I thought you would have grown out of this phase by now. It isn't good to play with your food."

"They aren't food!" Vertara exclaimed, glaring at her father, "They're _people_! People we tricked and murdered and I am sick and tired of it!" Taking a deep breath, she yelled out, back straight and head held proudly, " _I challenge you to Mon-ar-draclel!_ "

The gathered tribe gasped, recoiling as her father stiffened. Stone would have been softer than his face at that moment.

Marshall watched the reactions and leaned over to ask, "Um, what is a-?"

Vertara muttered back, the tribe whispering furiously around them, "A trial by combat and challenge for leadership rolled into one." Then she added nonchalantly, "It's also a fight to the death." Judging from the eager look in her eyes, she had no problem with killing her father.

Okay then.

* * *

The death-match happened, and of course the people trying to kill them didn't play fair. Vertara lived up to her name; she had her dad on the ropes when the first knife was thrown at her back...and promptly caught before it got halfway to its target, much to the watchers' shock.

Marshall turned the knife in his hand, examining it critically. Good balance, decent workmanship..."Hey Vertara, mind if I keep this?" He called out, waving the knife in the air to show what he meant, and she made an affirmative sounding roar in response. The fight was less a fight than two beasts ripping each other to shreds, but it was easy to see that Vertara had the upper hand. The chief was covered in wounds and bleeding profusely, and Marshall was stopping any attempts the tribe made to help their leader. Desperation was clear on the older man's face, which abruptly contorted in a savage snarl.

A thunderous roar rang out, echoed by the chief's supporters as Vertara's father went berserk, abandoning all defense to focus only on ripping his daughter to pieces. He didn't seem to feel pain anymore, no matter how much Vertara clawed and bit and tore at him. Finally, Vertara went in for the kill, teeth and claws gleaming black as she used the Armament he taught her to latch onto her father's throat and _pull_.

Much to the tribe's horror and Vertara's elation, blood gushed out of the wound like a waterfall. The white of the chief's spine was visible as he slowly toppled over, the madness on his face fading into shock.

Vertara threw her head back and roared in victory, the few injuries her father had given her after going berserk bleeding steadily but not seeming to slow her down. Sadly she didn't get to enjoy her triumph for long, the dead chief's supporters screaming in fury as they too went berserk. Apparently they didn't take the loss well.

Seeing the resigned look on Vertara's face, he decided it was about time he stepped in besides making sure everyone played fair. He patted Vertara on the head and said, "Relax, I'll handle this," as he moved to meet the first cannibal to lunge at them.

Vertara watched with wide-eyes as Marshall fought her tribesmen. Not one attacker got passed him, and before half an hour was up, the cove was painted red with blood.

"Incredible," she breathed as the last of her tribe fell, feeling the beginnings of hope stir in her chest.

* * *

Since all of the cannibals on the island sans Vertara (who took a few bites of her father and then spit it out, which was apparently the most insulting gesture one could make in her culture), Marshall decided to head back to the village after engaging in the time-honored tradition of looting the bodies. Not that they had a lot on them besides some more knives and some jewelry made of an intriguing red-and-white marbled gem that could probably sell for a lot.

"You can escape now, so why would you want to go back?" Vertara asked after confirming that all of her tribe were dead, confirming that even the sentries who'd been watching his ship were among the bodies.

"Because now that everyone's dead, we can take anything we want and no one will know." He explained.

Silence.

"I'll show you where the treasury is!"

* * *

"What's this stone called?" He asked, holding up a necklace with a pendant made of the red and white gem.

"My people consider it the blood and bones of the island and wear it for protection," Vertara explained, nearly bouncing with glee as she snickered, "Not that it helped them much."

He hummed. "An interesting story. If we leave out the fact that they were found on an island of cannibals, they can probably be sold for a lot."

Vertara shrugged, "I wouldn't know. Anyway, we're here." She gestured to a low building, pushing open the door to reveal a staircase leading down. "Down here's where we keep the things taken from other outsiders and anything important to the tribe," she explained. "The Island's Blood gems come from a mine on the opposite side of the island, if you wanted to see it."

"Maybe later," he waved off, following Vertara into a large cellar. Crates and treasure chests were piled almost to the ceiling, filling the room and leaving very little room to move around. Eyebrows raised, one hand holding his chin, he stated flatly. "We're going to have to move all this stuff outside before we can find out what's in here, aren't we." It wasn't a question.

"Uh huh," Vertara agreed, "This place hasn't been cleaned since my nine times great grandfather's time. Not even my father knew what all was in here."

He sighed, "Well I suppose we should get started then," he declared.

* * *

It was almost noon by the time they had the contents of the treasury above ground. He lost count of how many trips it took to move the stuff; Vertara was strong, but she could still only carry one crate at a time.

Before they cracked open the first crate, he took the time to clean and bandage her injuries from the fight. She seemed a bit confused as to why he bothered but humored him. After that was done, he grabbed hold of the lid of a crate and pulled it open with one hand. It was filled with pottery, early North Blue style and at least four hundred years old if he wasn't mistaken. A few were cracked, but the majority of it was intact and thus incredibly valuable collectors items.

The next few crates yielded more of the same, pottery and cookware from different seas and eras, but then they found some rugs that had unfortunately hadn't withstood the test of time. The fabric crumbled into dust as soon as he opened the lid. A shame, but he shrugged it off. A dozen more crates wound up containing nothing more than dust when the contents crumbled, but there were some very nice picture frames he was able to salvage, the paintings themselves going the way of the fabric in previous boxes.

Vertara took inventory as they worked their way through the chests and boxes, writing down the items and quantities he announced in a journal bound in soft leather that he highly suspected was human skin.

One of the boxes was better sealed than others, and when he opened it he was treated to the sight of almost a hundred, slightly worn and brittle but still recognizable, books. He picked one up and squinted at the cover, "Myths and Legends of South Blue volume 5," he read out, gently opening the cover and seeing the title page and, more importantly, the _publishing date_. "Oh hell," he breathed.

This book was from the damned _Void Century_. All of the books in that box were, he saw as he carefully pulled them out one after another, reading off the titles and checking the publishing date to be sure.

"Something wrong?" Vertara asked, looking up from jotting down the last book title.

It didn't even take a second before he reached a decision about what to do with the find before him. It wasn't a hard choice.

"No, I was just surprised these books are still readable, considering how long they were down there." He answered, putting the books back into the box they came from.

Call him a coward if you wanted, but he made his decision. Maybe he'd find a way to send them to Nico Robin once she joined the Straw Hats, but until then he was content with pretending he never found the things. The World Government committed genocide for less, and he wasn't yet strong enough to take them on.

He did, however, move the box to the 'take' side.

* * *

Miraculously, they were almost halfway done with looking through the boxes by the time night fell. He called for a break to eat dinner, which consisted solely of fruit for both of them, and afterwards decided to bring his ship closer to shore so it wouldn't take as long getting his recent loot onboard. Vertara went with him, curious about what it was like onboard an actual ship.

While she looked around in awe and excitement, he raised the anchor and brought them as close to shore as he could without running aground. Vertara watched the process, bouncing on her toes and almost giddy as she watched the ship approach the shore. He dropped anchor when he judged them as close as they could get, patting the wheel fondly as he stepped away and went over to Vertara. "Since it's getting dark, I suggest we put off the rest of the sorting and moving the loot onboard until it's light out. Less likely to miss something that way." He said.

"You mean you don't see in the dark like me?" Vertara asked in confusion, and when he shook his head and muttered 'not exactly' it was like a light went off in her mind. "Oooooooh, that explains a lot," she nodded sagely.

He decided it was probably best not to ask.

Once Vertara was comfortably settled in a spare room and gleefully rolling around on the furs/blankets he gave her, he retreated to his quarters and pretty much collapsed. He passed out for the rest of the night and it was the best sleep he had in a week.

* * *

Waking up the next morning to finding a female body tucked against his side wasn't anything new or particularly alarming, but he was rather confused for a minute since Rouge wasn't anywhere nearby-

A glimpse of dark red hair and the mystery was solved. He looked blankly up at the ceiling, blinking slowly before his mind caught up with reality and ah, he should probably get up, shouldn't he? Slipping out of Vertara's hold, he staggered to the bathroom and completed his morning routine, rinsing his razor and putting it away before he fully woke up. Yawning, he walked into his quarters to see Vertara awake, showing no signs of sleepiness as she poked curiously at the chests from Orango that she'd uncovered.

"What's in here?" She asked.

"I have no idea," he answered honestly, and decided that now was as good a time as any. "Want to find out?"

"Yes!" Vertara perked up, watching as he crouched down next to her and proceeded to open the first chest. What was revealed made her breath catch in her chest, a dazzling display of gold and silver and crimson rubies. The riches made her eyes light up, and he was rather impressed himself. That one chest alone was worth being called treasure, he thought, grinning as he reached out and grabbed a coin, examining it closely. The gold was real, he judged, and was even more thankful to Annie for making sure he took half the chests. He didn't know precisely how much was in the chest, but the next chest contained mostly gems, diamonds and emeralds and citrines and even jade with some golden bracelets and necklaces mixed in. He wasn't imagining the muffled squeal from beside him as he opened the third chest, revealing a wide array of weaponry and navigation equipment (Lucky! He needed a new sextant!). The fourth was clothes, boots and capes and belts in remarkably good condition. He noticed Vertara's eyes locked on a particular belt, dark brown leather with a ruby in the buckle, and wordlessly passed it to her. She squealed in joy, quickly putting it on and bouncing in glee when it fit.

His curiosity roused, he opened the last chest, wondering what would be in it. The lid flipped back, and he held his breath. When he saw the contents, his mind went blank.

"What." He said flatly.

"What is it?" Vertara tilted her head curiously.

The final chest was empty save for one thing: a fruit the color of a sunset that looked like a cross between an orange and a lemon, covered in swirls. A Devil Fruit.

His eye twitched. " _What the fuck!?_ "

Because seriously, what were the odds?

After a while, he calmed down and explained about Devil Fruits, consoling himself with the knowledge that at least it wasn't the Dark-Dark Fruit.

* * *

They went ashore after the early morning drama and a hearty breakfast, searching through the huts for anything valuable as they went. It was as he was poking at a decently made pot and wondering if it would be worth it to clean it up and sell it when something occurred to him and he called out, "Hey Vertara! Is there any chance of someone coming here from one of the other two islands and finding us?"

Midway through stuffing a mound of jewelry into a sack, she paused in thought before shaking her head, "Not much of one. My father's tribe was the strongest and we tended to eat any messengers, so the other two tribes learned to stay away."

"Good to know." He nodded, giving up on the pot and joining Vertara in looting any and all valuables. No cookware or anything to do with food - he'd probably catch something no matter how thoroughly he cleaned the stuff. The tribe wasn't big on art, but they found a hell of a lot of gems, jewelry and accessories. He also grabbed the weapons, because those would always sell and he thought Rouge might like a souvenir from this adventure. He might also give her some of the Island's Blood gems, just to see what she made of them.

They had to make two trips back to put the loot from the houses on the ship before they made it to where they left the treasury stuff. He carted the stuff they'd already sorted back to the Coddiwomple before he started opening more crates. Vertara got her book and pen that on closer inspection looked like it was made from bone and prepared to take inventory.

It took another day to go through it all, and it probably would have taken longer if half of it hadn't fallen apart when he opened the boxes. Most of the chests were half-full of treasure, so he dumped one chest into another to get a full treasure chest, thus decreasing the trips he had to make to transport it. On the third day, all of the loot was in his ship's hold and properly secured and he followed Vertara to see the mine. It was his first time seeing an actual mine and was an overall interesting trip. He looked at the large Island's Blood vein, spotted an abandoned pickaxe and decided he might as well. He got another chest of the raw stone and then walked out, followed by a mystified Vertara.

"Why'd you do that?" She asked.

"Just in case."

* * *

When he sailed away from the former island of cannibals, Vertara was with him. After how she'd helped him, he didn't feel right just leaving her.

A month and two islands later, he woke up to a warm weight against his side, red hair in his mouth, and the knowledge that it was his birthday. He blinked at the ceiling.

"Huh. I'm eighteen now."

Then Chuckles started singing " _Happy Birthday to You_ ". In Rouge's voice. While looking smug about his new trick. When the hell had Rouge had the chance to corrupt his snail?!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SITeach tries to give Canon the finger. Canon kicks him in the balls in retaliation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recently ordered a new book and am really looking forward to getting it, so some of the giddiness might show in this chapter. :)

Traveling with Vertara was a new experience in a lot of ways.

One such way was because of her complete lack of modesty and sense of personal space. He quickly lost count of the number of times he woke up to find a naked Vertara cuddling into his side. He finally gave up on asking her to stay in her room and just moved the pelts and pillows he gave her back to his room, converting her room back into a storeroom (he _thought_ it was supposed to have been an officer's quarters, but whatever). She also tended to walk around naked unless they were near a winter island, but he didn't mind that so much as waking up in the middle of the night to go to the restroom and falling flat on his face tripping over her.

Vertara took every opportunity to ask questions about the workings of the ship and the islands he'd visited. His heart ached every time she looked surprised when he answered, but the ache lessened when the surprise gradually changed to delight and anticipation whenever she came bounding over to him with a new question on her lips. She soaked up information like a sponge, and soon she was helping him adjust the ship's course and perform basic maintenance.

Somehow, he was surprised to find that she'd picked up his habit of talking to his ship.

(She also followed his lead and called it Coddi, but he only found that out a few weeks later during a storm where they had to navigate through both waterspouts _and_ whirlpools. It didn't seem like too big a deal, all things considered.)

* * *

" _Gather up all of the crew,_

_It's time to ship out Bink's Brew,_

_Sea wind blows,_

_To where? Who knows?_

_The waves will be our guide~_ "

Marshall hummed, the sound of waves against the hull providing soothing background noise as he stood at the wheel. He was in a rather good mood as he sang, occasionally checking the Log Pose on his wrist to make sure the New World waters didn't pull a fast one and send the ship off course.

_Caw!_

A News Coo landed on the railing, interrupting the song and successfully attracting his attention. Squinting, he thought the bird looked kind of familiar. Approaching, the pattern of black feathers around the albatross's eyes jogged his memory. Snapping his fingers, he noted, "You're the one I bought that first paper from, aren't you?"

_Caw!_

The bird answered in affirmative, ruffling its feathers and looking at him hopefully.

"....You want some fish, don't you?"

... _Caw?_

The bird tried to look innocent. It didn't work, and Marshall snorted in amusement as Vertara approached the railing curiously. "What is that?" She asked, tilting her head.

"That's a News Coo; they deliver newspapers and bounty posters all over the world. Pretty tough birds, considering the skies in the New World are about as friendly as the oceans." He explained.

The News Coo puffed up proudly.

Vertara nodded, then asked, "Bounty posters?"

"Pieces of paper showing how much the World Government wants certain people dead. Most big-name pirates use them to keep score."

He'd already given her a rundown on the World Government, so she got it quickly. He went and got the bird a few pieces of fish, then gave the bird a thousand Beri with a nonchalant, "keep the change," as he accepted his newspaper. The bird cawed joyfully, looking at him with shining eyes and actually _saluting_ before taking off.

Vertara watched the albatross fly away, blinking in bemusement before saying, "That was...interesting."

His lips quirked up and he laughed.

"You don't know the half of it!"

* * *

Four months after finding the Devil Fruit in one of the Orango chests and Marshall was still wrestling with himself over whether or not to follow his first thought to its logical conclusion.

It wasn't the Dark-Dark Fruit. He didn't know which fruit it was, but all that mattered was that it wasn't that. It was strange, but once the shock had worn off, he had felt a surge of elation. If he ate this Devil Fruit, then whatever happened afterwards, he couldn't eat the Dark-Dark Fruit. He couldn't become like the canon Marshall D. Teach, couldn't become like Blackbeard. It would be the final step towards putting the nail in the coffin of Canon.

Sitting on the deck of the Coddiwomple and staring down at the cursed fruit in his hand, he was still thinking about it, unable to take the last step. All it would take was one bite, one bite and he would have a new power and lose the ability to swim. Which he really didn't want, he liked swimming! But between being unable to swim and the Dark-Dark Fruit, it was clear which was the lesser of two evils.

"So...are you gonna eat it?" Vertara's voice came from behind him.

He grunted, brow furrowed as he kept his eyes on the fruit. "Thinking about it," he admitted.

Vertara came up beside him, looking down at the fruit with distant curiosity. She was wearing one of the new outfits he'd gotten her, a red v-neck crop-top and vibrant flower-patterned sarong along with a necklace of blue-green and rose-colored glass beads that he'd made her. When he'd given her the accessory her eyes had lit up, almost literally glowing as she squealed happily.

The Coddiwomple was currently anchored off the shores of a spring island, the temperature pleasantly warm in the early morning hours. They hadn't yet gone ashore, but were planning on it a little later. The rising sun painted the sea in shades of orange and gold, and he would have enjoyed the sight more if his thoughts weren't focused on the toughest decision he'd ever had to make.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out in a sigh, he steeled himself. He was going to do it.

Lifting the fruit to his mouth, he prepared to bite down-

" _Raaaaaaawwwwwwwrrrrrrr!_ "

A blur of motion struck his arm, knocking it upward and catching him off guard as the fruit went flying. The blur jumped after it, a blur that he could now see was a person, and as the person grabs the fruit and makes for the railing, Vertara took off in hot pursuit, shrieking in fury. He recovered from the surprise just in time to sense the thief's spike of sheer terror as Vertara caught up with them two feet from the railing and raked her claws down their back, bits of fabric and flesh flying as they toppled over the railing.

He darted over to the railing, hearing the splashes as first the thief and then Vertara hit the water, the woman having jumped after the thief. He gripped the railing and gaped in shock at the ripples.

A beat of silence, and then:

" _What the fuck?!_ "

* * *

Vertara came back twenty minutes later, soaking wet and spitting mad as she informed him, "Bastard got away, but I got a taste of him before he gave me the slip." She bared her teeth, "As soon as we make land, I'll be able to find them again."

He had spent at least ten minutes of her absence freaking out because _what the hell_ , but by the time she got back he had mostly calmed down. And then gotten pissed, because _what the hell_?!

He was just pissed enough that he gives her a savage grin in response and snarls, " _Good_."

Somewhere, he had the feeling that something was laughing at him and damn if he didn't want to punch someone in the face. Preferably the person who stole his chance at putting a stop to any chance of him eating the Dark-Dark Fruit in the first place.

That asshole was going to _pay_.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SITeach kicks ass, doesn't care about names, and might eventually get around to asking questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a bit of a bad luck week for my family, pretty much one thing after another, so I'm kind of venting here. Kind of like SITeach. ;P In other news, I'm seriously considering that gofundme, or maybe ko-fi...

"Halt! Put your hands up and-! _Argh_!"

_Crunch!_

Marshall pulled his hand out of the wall he'd slammed the Marine's head into, blood spilling from the resulting hole as he snarled, "Of course! Of fucking course we find the only island in the New World with a Marine presence on it!" He ranted, stalking through the halls of the base, his Observation Haki running at full power. He'd gotten separated from Vertara when they'd tracked the thief to the base, Vertara running ahead while he'd been stuck dealing with the guards.

Apparently you weren't allowed to just waltz into a New World Marine base, or so the guards had said, laughing when he'd asked - _politely!_ \- for them to let him by. He didn't waste time explaining why he wanted inside (he recognized the stubbornly condescending look on their faces), deciding fuck it. Before the thought was finished, his fist was buried in one guard's face and it felt _so good_. So he did it again. And again. The guard collapsed, face a bloody mess. His partner tried to interfere and received the same treatment.

Five minutes later, he walked through the front door into a scene straight out of a horror movie. There had been a group of Marines training in the courtyard when Vertara came through; blood and viscera were everywhere. He could hear the sounds of fighting coming from the right, Vertara's cackling mingling discordantly with the screams of fear and pain from whoever she was fighting.

Deciding to let her have her fun, he opened his Observation Haki to the max and headed in a different direction. It didn't take long for him to run into the first squad of reinforcements, and he snarled and proceeded to _cut loose_.

By the time he'd put that Marine's head through the wall, half the population of the base was dead. His arms were caked in red up to his elbows, the walls and floor were covered in blood, some even splattered on the ceiling, and he _still_ hadn't found that damn thief! He'd checked every Marine he killed for Vertara's claw marks and found nothing, much to his irritation. The direction Vertara had taken had gotten quiet, so she might have had more luck. He sensed someone decently strong headed in that direction, likely the second in command of the base, but the strongest person he could sense was still further back in the base. He was going in that direction, but progress was slow because he was checking bodies and dragging anyone he sensed on his route out of their hiding places.

As it turned out, Vertara beat him to the Base Commander. He scowled when he walked through the ruins of a formerly sturdy door and found the man barely on his feet and bleeding profusely. It painted an odd picture; a burly, bald-headed man facing off against a slender, voluptuous redhead and clearly losing. The bald man was covered in blood and so was Vertara, none of it hers. The Base Commander was also missing several chunks of flesh from his arms and shoulders, so obviously Vertara was having fun, which didn't help his mood.

"Why are you playing around?" He demanded, and then noticed something that had him facepalming, an action he swiftly regretted when the blood on his hand flaked off on his face. "Why are you naked?" He nearly groaned in exasperation when Vertara looked down at herself and shrugged. With the exception of her necklace and a thorough coating of blood, she was completely nude.

Vertara didn't understand his reaction, instead shrugging again and explaining, "I followed the trail of the thief and found this room. The man over there was trying to kill the thief, so I stopped him for you,"

Two other people were in the room, which was the very definition of the word 'trashed', one boy and one girl, both looking barely older than teenagers. The boy was down on the ground, unconscious or close to it, the girl kneeling at his side and crying, and Vertara was pointing to the boy.

His mood promptly changed from exasperated to murderous, face darkening as his hand lowered and he looked at the thief with undisguised rage. Looking at the Base Commander, whose face was a mixture of anger and relief at being ignored, Marshall roared.

" _No way in hell are you killing that thieving bastard before I do!_ "

The Marine recoiled, then snorted and exerted obvious effort as he straightened up, "So, the Devil Fruit that brat ate is yours, is it?"

" _He already ate it?!_ "

Inching away from his aura of killing intent, Vertara squeaked when he turned burning eyes towards her and wordlessly growled.

Receiving the message, she stopped playing with her food. As Marshall stalked over to the two teens, the only sound coming from the bald man were high-pitched screams.

(To the Marine's credit, he was strong enough that she had to use the trick that Marshall taught her, the one that turned her claws black.)

* * *

In the end, he didn't kill the thief. After seeing just how young he was (if that kid was over eighteen he would eat his boots), it just wouldn't have felt right, because while he might be a murderous bastard, he was a murderous bastard with Standards. Killing kids was a big no in his book. The girl begging him not to hurt the boy might or might not have factored into his decision.

The boy woke up right around then, took one look at Marshall looming over him and looking none too happy and promptly paled and shoved the girl behind him in a protective gesture. Then he saw Vertara striding over, gnawing on the Base Commander's severed arm and covered in blood, and his face rapidly changed from white to green.

On closer inspection, it was clear that he and Vertara had interrupted _something_. The girl was wearing a wedding dress, for Davy Jones' sake! The boy's injuries were pretty serious; aside from the slices on his back from Vertara's claws, he also had almost a dozen broken bones, and his haki was telling him there was a good amount of internal bleeding. It was clear the kid had had his ass kicked, very thoroughly at that. The girl was crying harder now, eyes wide and silently pleading with him not to kill him. Just like that, his rage vanishing like water down a drain.

He obviously didn't know the whole story, so with a long, resigned sigh, he grabbed the two teens and held them under his arm. Turning on his heel and marching through the bloody hallways, he called back to Vertara, "Catch up when you get done!" Ignoring the struggles of the boy, honestly not even feeling any of the feeble blows - bad angle, not enough space to gather momentum, he analysed - as he walked. It didn't take him long to get back to the front gate, though he didn't expect to be greeted by the sight of a large mob of people milling about when he stepped outside.

Blinking, he started wondering whether or not he was going to have to fight off an angry mob. He hoped not, he saw some elderly people in the crowd and like he said, standards. Before anything could happen, the girl under his arm started struggling. She'd been such a model passenger (aka captive) until then that he obliged her unspoken request to be set down. The boy he was somewhat less gentle with, but the brat deserved it. Much to his surprise, the girl stood facing the crowd, throwing her arms out and standing in front of him and the boy. "Wait!" She cried, "There's no need to attack! This man and his friend killed the Marine's here!" Taking a deep breath, she yelled, pouring every ounce of feeling into her voice that she could, " _This man and his friend saved us!_ "

A tense veil of silence descended, broken only when an older woman hobbled to the front of the crowd, leaning heavily on her cane as she asked, "Is that true, Krystalene?" The hand gripping her cane trembled, her voice hoarse with emotion and her eyes bright with desperate hope. Abruptly, he was sure that she and the girl were related, a fact confirmed by the girl's next words.

"Yes, mother, it's true. Wilde tried to save me, but Vice-Admiral Bruno was too strong. Wilde and likely I would be dead if this man and his friend hadn't launched an attack on the base."

A storm of muttering began as the girl turned, somehow elegant despite her torn, stained wedding dress and dropped into a formal curtsy. "I cannot thank you enough for saving us, but please accept the sincerest gratitude of both the island and myself for freeing us."

As if on cue, a jubilant cheer erupted from the crowd. Any lingering anger was lost beneath confusion as he looked at the celebrating people, the girl and her mother now hugging and crying in joy.

Okay, obviously he was missing something. Mentally throwing up his hands, he gave up and let the brewing celebration sweep him away. Vertara would catch up later, and in the meantime he'd get the thief patched up so he could kick his ass.

* * *

Eventually he got the full story from the girl in the wedding dress, whose name was Amaranda Krystalene. Krystalene was considered the most beautiful girl on the island, and the fact that she looked attractive even while crying her eyes out supported that opinion. She was eighteen, just like he thought, with long blonde tresses, crystal blue eyes, and delicate complexion. She also had a perfect hourglass figure and stood confidently, comfortable in her own skin even when she was scared out of her mind.

(She could probably rival Boa Hancock for the title of 'Most Beautiful Woman on the Sea'...wait, had Hancock even been born yet?)

Unfortunately, it was because of her beauty that she caught the eye of Vice-Admiral Baldwin 'Bear Claw' Bruno, who wanted her at first sight. She was in love with her childhood friend Jesse Wilde and refused his offer, which was more like a poorly veiled threat. Baldwin didn't take no for an answer, badly breaking Krystalene's mother's leg in an attempt to force her compliance. She still refused, and he took it out on the Islanders.

Taxes, accidents, stolen goods, you name it, he did it until even the Islanders reluctantly urged her to just marry the man so he and his underlings would leave them alone. But, she whispered, lips twisted into a bitter smile, the Vice-Admiral never had any such plan. Wilde protected her as best he could, but he just wasn't a match for the Vice-Admiral, and time had been running out. After the man threatened both her mother and the one she loved, she'd given in, agreeing to marry him as long as he left the two of them alone.

(Her eyes glittered like jagged shards of ice; ready to pierce and draw blood at the slightest movement. The islanders had tried to give her away to save their own skins, and then thought that coming to meet her after it was all over meant they were forgiven, but he knew better. This girl cared for only two others now.)

Wilde hadn't been able to accept it. Though he was a year younger than her (called it!), he'd always watched out for her. His parents, both dead, had been thieves and liars and everyone said that he was the same, but Krystalene thought differently. She was the only one who gave him a chance, but one chance was all he needed. He was determined to save her, but the fact of the matter was that he was no match for the Vice-Admiral in direct combat. But he knew a way to even the odds, she explained.

"Please forgive him, Mr. Marshall," she pleaded earnestly, "Wilde was desperate - Devil Fruits are rare, and he had no time to find another after seeing yours, that's why he took it."

She then described the brief battle between Wilde and the Vice-Admiral after Wilde had showed up after eating the Devil Fruit. Wilde's new powers had given him a brief edge, but the Vice-Admiral had adapted before the boy could press his advantage.

When he heard which fruit it was, he grit his teeth, eye twitching because _Davy Jones damn it_!

(The worst part, he later ranted to Rouge after the party wound down and he got back to his ship and relayed the story, was that he couldn't even kill the boy for it. Rouge just laughed at his whining. Why was he friends with her again?)

* * *

"So, why _were_ you naked?" He asked Vertara as she climbed through the window of the room at the inn the people gave him, skin and hair free of blood and freshly clothed.

"One of the enemy was decently strong." She replied.

It took him a moment to figure out what that meant, but when he did he groaned and knocked the back of his head against the wall he was leaning on. "...You hate-fucked him, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"He's not going to show up later for revenge, is he?" He asked, part serious and part morbid curiosity.

"No, I ate him afterwards." She assured him, which...yeah. He wasn't going to touch that with a pole as long as Whitebeard.

"So what were you up to aside from showering?" He himself had washed up as soon as he'd been directed to the village inn and given their best room, glad to get the blood from under his nails. He had a few scratches from some attacks he hadn't bothered dodging, but nothing that would need medical attention. Which was good, since Wilde the thief was still being treated at the doctor's office.

Vertara stretched, walking over to sit next to him and snuggling into his side. "Looting," she answered cheerfully. At his raised eyebrow, she elaborated, "I searched the base and grabbed all of the money and supplies I could find, a large amount of clothes, some of which might even fit you, and all the books and papers I could carry."

Good, she had the basics down. He nodded in approval. He curled his arm around her and returned her grin with one of his own.

Shifting so they were lying down, he yawned so widely his ears popped and mumbled, "Get some sleep. The villagers are setting up a party so we might hang around a few days to take advantage. I think you'll like Krystalene, the girl we found with the thief. Girl has a heart of ice underneath that pretty face."

"And the thief?" She asked, amused.

" _Fuck no._ "

* * *

They left a week later, only to discover some unintended cargo three days out.

"No." He spoke firmly, crossing his arms, "No, you are not coming with us. I can respect the balls it took to sneak onto my ship, but I will still kick your ass."

Jesse Wilde met Marshall's irritated gaze defiantly, staring at him in challenge. "Just try it, old man." He bit out, and putting aside the question of how old Wilde thought he was, Marshall was _not_ pleased. It didn't help that Vertara was standing off to the side and watching in delight.

"I don't know why you thought this was a good idea, but we are turning right back and taking you back to your girlfriend!" He stated.

"No you aren't!" Wilde snapped, now glaring even as he blushed at the thought of Krystalene as his girlfriend. He wasn't worthy of her, he hadn't even come close to saving her, and that was the reason why he'd snuck aboard in the first place. He needed to get stronger, he thought, his hands clenched at his sides.

Marshall watched the teen with narrow eyes. He suspected the reason for the stowaway's presence, but that didn't change anything. He headed to the wheel to turn them around, grumbling to himself and shooting Vertara an irritated look when the woman laughed.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SITeach seriously considers just tossing his stowaway overboard and calling it done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone interested in commissioning a story for a quarter per chapter? *Is only half-kidding*

In his defense, Marshall had every intention of turning around and going back to the island to drop off their stowaway, but nature had other plans, as the freaking _maelstrom_ that formed above the Coddiwomple proved.

They wound up blown seriously off course, soaking wet and exhausted by the time the storm eased enough that they weren't in danger of capsizing. He had barely started on figuring out where they were when they ran into the flying walrus migration, and after that the rescue of the merchant ship being attacked by Sea Kings, and then another storm happened and Marshall threw up his hands in defeat. They were so far away from the island by then that there was no point in trying to turn around.

To the kid's credit, Jesse Wilde had done his best to help out, but it was obvious that the teen had never worked on a ship in his life. Marshall sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was night now, not a cloud to be seen and a bite to the air that told him they were close to a winter island. He had a great view of the stars as he leaned back against the railing, letting out a long breath as he tried to figure out what the hell he was doing. Vertara was one thing, but the _thief_? He might understand the reasoning, but that didn't mean he wasn't still pissed about it; not to mention the brat stowed away! By all rights, he should have just tossed the kid overboard and been done with it. He hadn't, but that didn't mean the idea wasn't tempting.

He let out another sigh, this one coming out as a cloud of mist as the temperature dropped. His Observation pinged a minute before the very person he was thinking of slipped out onto the deck, footsteps silent as the teen walked to the opposite railing to look out over the sea. Wilde didn't notice that he wasn't alone, staring thoughtfully out over the water, so he took the opportunity to take a good look at the teenager.

Jesse Wilde wasn't the tallest person, barely coming up to the bottom of Marshall's ribcage when standing up straight, but he was cleanly muscled and quick on his feet - and quick with his fingers, as he'd proved when he'd pickpocketed a certain ungrateful merchant who was complaining about the damage to his cargo instead of thanking them for saving his crew's lives. Marshall had caught the flicker of movement, but the merchant had no idea until they were already sailing away and the man's enraged screams reached their ears. The teen's black, shoulder-length hair was ruffled from sleep, showing that until recently he'd been making use of the improvised bed Marshall had made him in one of the empty rooms. His emerald green eyes were distant, expression showing that he was lost in thought. Combined with his pale skin and attractive face, the kid was going to be a heartbreaker when he grew up.

Dressed all in black, the kid blended into the darkness, a melancholy air around him. Marshall silently groan, rolling his eyes and admitting defeat. He was a sucker for the lost ones with more guts than sense.

* * *

"Couldn't sleep?"

Wilde jumped when a deep voice spoke from beside him. Whirling around, he saw the captain of the ship leaning on the railing next to him. Even with the other's relaxed posture, he still had to crane his neck back to look at the man's eyes. The man was _tall_.

He could admit, if only to himself, that stowing away had been an impulse born of self-directed anger. There had been no thought or reasoning involved, just pure emotion. He'd braved the ocean after dark, swimming out to the lone ship anchored offshore and sneaking onboard in an act of desperation, the clock ticking in the back of his mind before Krystal was forced to go through with that farce of a marriage. He'd heard stories about Devil Fruits and how powerful they made those who ate them, so when he peered over the railing of the same ship he was now standing on to see the captain examining one of them, preparing to eat it, he'd taken it as a sign.

Looking back, it was a miracle he'd gotten away. His back still ached, the marks left by Vertara's claws still in the process of healing. Though it was by a hair's breadth, escape he had. Once he got back to shore and run out of sight of the beach, he hadn't wasted any time in eating the stolen fruit. The taste was _excruciating_ , his tastebuds had been screaming in agony even as he forced himself to swallow. Just the memory of the cursed fruit's flavor was enough to have him turning green, bile rising as he fought back the urge to vomit.

Time had been running out, so he'd pushed through the disgust and rushed to the marine base where the 'marriage' was to take place. Sneaking in had been easy, as had finding the secret room where Krystal and the Vice-Admiral were. The fight...

His fists clenched at the memory. It didn't even deserve to be called a fight. It was more like a slaughter, and not in his favor. Even when he figured out what his new power was, he'd been completely outclassed. His body still ached all over, the bruises still throbbing in phantom pain as he remembered the beating the late Vice-Admiral had given him. He'd thought for sure that he was about to die and worse, that he'd failed Krystal. And then Vertara had showed up.

Breaking down the heavy, firmly bolted door like it was made of paper, the blood-covered woman had taken one look at the scene and darted across the room to start ripping the Vice-Admiral to shreds. That was the last thing he saw before blacking out, and the next thing he knew, both he and Krystal were being carried passed the remains of a massacre by the very man he'd stolen the Devil Fruit from.

(Krystal later told him about what the man had said when Vertara identified him as the thief.

Considering the carnage the two of them had caused while chasing him, he was profoundly grateful that Krystal had explained the situation and talked the man out of holding a grudge.)

He'd passed out again, and woke up the third time in the care of the town doctor. His injuries were extensive, but the worst of it, the internal bleeding, had already been resolved. He slept for two days, the few times he was awake he was either talking to Krystal or dwelling on his own weakness. When he heard that the two strangers were preparing to depart, he remembered how strong they were and his choice was made. He snuck onboard and stowed away. He'd planned to wait a while before revealing himself, but the man found him in scarcely half the time.

Whether by coincidence or design, the captain's plans to take him back to the island had fallen through, and now he was on the ship indefinitely.

"Yes. Life on a ship is very different from life on an island." He answered belatedly. Feigning composure, he turned back towards the railing, crossing his arms and leaning against the painted wood. He never saw the thoughtful way the captain watched the emotions play across his face while he remembered the events that led up to him stowing away.

"It is," the captain agreed.

Silence descended, the quiet lasting almost an hour before the captain broke it. "Why did you stow away, kid? You have to know I'm not too happy with you."

"I know," he admitted, sighing and looking down at railing, idly tracing the grain of the wood with his eyes, "Back on the island...I couldn't do anything. Even after eating the Devil Fruit, I was still helpless. The only reason Krystal is safe is because you chased me and Miss Vertara killed the Vice-Admiral." The confession tasted like ash in his mouth. "I want - No, I _need_ to get stronger. You and Miss Vertara are strong. If I tag along with you, my hope is that eventually some of that strength will rub off on me."

The captain hummed, head tilted back to look at the stars as he said, "Strength comes in many forms, kid. Don't make the mistake of thinking it's just one kind that counts." It was a strangely philosophical comment, but one that nonetheless rang with sincerity.

Nodding, he absently muttered, "Yes, captain," and then froze as he realized what he'd just said. He tensed up, prepared for either a reprimanding cuff or for the man to say that he wasn't part of his crew, only for the captain to once again surprise him.

"Hmph, the name's Marshall D. Teach. Call me Marshall."

Blinking in surprise, he looked up at _his_ captain and smiled, his first real one since 'Bear Claw' Bruno had set his eyes on Krystal. Pushing away from the rail and spinning on his heel to take off towards his room, he shot over his shoulder, "Yes captain!"

"Cheeky brat!"

He laughed at the growl, relief making his steps lighter as he headed into the ship, pretending that the moisture at the corner of his eyes were from laughing too hard.

* * *

Well, that conversation could have gone a lot worse, Marshall snorted, watching as Wilde disappeared through the door to the inside of the ship.

Sure he was stuck with another crewmember - not that he _had_ a crew - but, well, when he thought about it maybe the kid wasn't _that_ bad. He shook his head, smiling slightly as he looked towards the shadow of the mast and called out dryly, "Happy now?"

A pair of vivid gold eyes blinked at him, then Vertara emerged from her hiding spot. Grinning, she walked up next to him and nudged him in the side with her elbow. "See? I knew you'd like him." She teased.

Mock scowling, he dryly informed her, "If I didn't know for a fact you'd never met, I'd say you were spending too much time with Rouge." A beat, then he grinned, causing the redhead to eye him uneasily, "And just for that, you get to cover the rest of my watch _and_ yours."

Vertara's jaw dropped.

He walked off towards his quarters and savored the sound of her frustrated whine.

* * *

The Coddiwomple docked at the next island, which turned out to be a winter island like he'd thought, and he headed off in search of supplies while Wilde wandered off to explore and Vertara stayed behind to guard the ship.

He was in the midst of loading the purchased supplies when the first explosion happened, shaking the ground and causing the ships in the harbor to rock alarmingly. A quick exchange of glances with Vertara and he sighed, leaving her to finish loading the food as he ran off to see what was happening.

Unsurprisingly, the explosion was Wilde's fault. As were the next three. When he found the teen, the kid was running away from a group of armored guards with a bulging sack thrown over his shoulder and somehow managing to keep ahead of them.

A quick application of Shave and Moonwalk and he was dropping Wilde on the deck. Completely deadpan, he asked Vertara, "Is it too late to throw this brat overboard?"

Turns out Wilde stole the island's crown jewels.

Vertara was too busy laughing to answer him and Wilde just grinned, the definition of smug. He sighed and went to get the ship ready to leave.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SITeach finally admits that he has a crew, he just wishes the circumstances behind that realization were better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm surprised no one guessed what Wilde's fruit is, LOL.

Once Wilde settled in, the teen turned out to have both a wicked sense of humor and a mischievous streak.

Case in point, the brat stole something, most often something important, on every island they stopped at. The little _idiot_ even had the balls to leave a calling card; said card was a joker, and the pun was so awful it was physically painful. (He actually groaned the first time he heard about it and Wilde, the brat, laughed so hard he cried at the look on his face). Marshall quickly lost track of how many crown jewels and national treasures were in his ship's hold, but he also got a measure of payback for the amount of trouble Wilde caused him.

Two words: haki training.

He bought several extra bags of potatoes, blindfolded an increasingly nervous thief, and silently passed one of the bags to a grinning Vertara. Taking careful aim, the two of them let loose, the vegetables hitting their target with satisfying thuds. As far as awakening Observation Haki went, throwing potatoes at someone was one of the gentlest methods. And the most amusing. Every yelp and near-trip as Wilde attempted to dodge the flying spuds was _hilarious_.

" _Zehahaha!_ " Marshall cackled, watching as the visible parts of the teen's face turned red.

The resulting litany of curses just made him laugh harder.

* * *

"Alright, this has been a long time coming, but it's time to organize the treasury." He declared.

"Why?" Vertara asked, head tilted curiously.

"Because for the last few months we've just been tossing things in random rooms, Wilde doesn't know what half the things he stole _are_ and last night I went in to get some Beris for supplies and nearly tripped over some kind of scepter." He answered.

A moment of quiet.

"Yeah, that's fair." She admitted.

Wilde just looked at the ground and mumbled something about grabbing the most heavily guarded thing. Which, while good for bragging rights, wasn't so good for keeping inventory. One day that boy was going to get in over his head, he swore, and it wasn't going to be pretty. Marshall sent Vertara to get her inventory book and pen, still firmly Not Thinking about what said objects were made of, and led Wilde in getting to work.

(An hour later, Marshall's recitation of everything he found was abruptly cut off as he held up a woman's bustier made of diamonds and silver and looked blankly at Wilde.

The teen blushed and refused to meet his eyes, the scratch of Vertara's pen on paper loud in the sudden silence.)

* * *

A number of islands later, Wilde indeed bit off more than he could chew, and just like he'd predicted, it wasn't pretty.

The teenager made the mistake of trying to steal the treasure of Enyo Island, a legendary sword belonging to each generation of royalty. Considering the religion of the island was focused around the war goddess of the same name, it should come as no surprise that the guards, nobles, and even the citizens were trained warriors. Warriors who didn't take kindly to thieves who tried to make off with their sacred relic.

The three of them had separated after docking, Marshall to get needed supplies and Vertara and Wilde to explore. Business as usual, but then his haki started _shrieking_. His blood felt like it had been replaced by ice when enraged howling and animalistic screams of pain reached his ears. Before he even registered the movement, he was sprinting towards the source of the sounds. Using Shave, he got to the scene barely a minute later, skidding to a halt and taking in the situation in seconds.

A crowd of people in official uniforms, all of whom looked angry, some kind of priest, and a man holding a radiant sword standing above Wilde, who was laying on the ground in a pool of blood.

Something _snapped_ in his mind, and an enormous wave of pressure surged out. The crowd between him and his _crewmember_ fell like puppets with their strings cut.

(He didn't know it, but the targets of his rage would swear to their dying day that as they lost consciousness, they felt the mythic rage of their Goddess.)

* * *

Vertara was just finishing up the preparations for departure when he landed on the deck of the Coddiwomple, the injured Wilde clutched to his chest and his front soaked with blood from sloppily dressed injuries.

"Launch!" He barked, striding quickly towards the little-used infirmary, "Get us the hell out of here!"

"But the Log Pose-" Vertara tried to half-heartedly protest, looking at the teen in her captain's arms in concern but knowing how important it was for the navigation tool to reset before sailing, only to be interrupted.

"Fuck the Log Pose and _set sail_!"

The infirmary door slammed shut.

* * *

Asclepias was an island of doctors, an island dedicated to the study of medicine and healing. The island boasted the best medical school in the New World. A degree from the Asclepias Medical Academy guaranteed one a job in whatever hospital they applied to.

Arriving on the island after nearly a week of frantic travel and almost too late for Wilde, Marshall didn't give a damn about that. Standing in the lobby of the hospital, nearly incandescent with rage as he held his unconscious crewmate, he roared at the terrified receptionist, "I'm telling you, get a fucking doctor out here! I don't give a shit about _protocol_ or _waiting periods_ , if my crewmember dies _I will end you_! So get a doctor out here and _do your fucking job_!"

Fortunately, an older man in a doctor's coat and a woman in a nurse's uniform rushed out before he could make good on his promise. He put Wilde down on the gurney they wheeled out and watched as the nurse set up an IV, measuring the teen's pulse and blood pressure and a dozen other things he couldn't identify. The gurney was taken to an operating room; he sat on the bench outside, his haki fully focused on what was happening inside. Strangely, the nurse was the one moving the most, performing what felt like half the operation.

Five hours passed and Vertara arrived, sitting quietly next to him. A beat later, he grunted, "Sorry."

He didn't need to say what for.

Vertara understood, and she nodded. "Accepted."

Just like that, all was forgiven.

An hour later, the light over the operating room door flicked off and the doctor slipped out. He had some blood on his gloves and sleeves, but not a lot, not enough to have performed surgery of any sort. Nodding as the doctor droned on about bloodloss and internal bleeding, getting about half of it wrong, he kept his suspicions and what he'd sensed with his haki to himself.

* * *

Wilde was put on bed rest for two weeks while his wounds healed, not that the thief was awake to hear it. A terrified receptionist brought him the check-in paperwork, which with Vertara's help he managed to fill out to the minimum standard. Acting on his suspicions, he parked himself in a chair in a corner of the room, refusing to leave even when visiting hours ended.

A nurse made one attempt to get him to leave. She didn't come back for another try.

Night fell, and Vertara returned, slipping through the window and perching on the sill like a tiger prepared to pounce. "Is he okay?" She asked quietly, her voice a whisper of sound that nonetheless shattered the quiet atmosphere.

"I don't know." He frowned. "The doctor's clueless. Barely did anything during the surgery, half the things he told me afterwards were wrong."

"That...doesn't seem good," she said lowly, brow furrowed.

"It's not." He confirmed, sighing and rubbing his eyes tiredly. Half an hour passed, moonlight shining around Vertara and casting the woman's silhouette across the floor before he spoke again, "This is an island of medicine. Tomorrow I want you to take advantage of that. Search the island for any medicine or equipment you think will help if something like this happens again; concentrate on the smaller shops and stalls for herbs - those tend to be higher quality." He rattled off the instructions smoothly and without pause, not taking his eyes off Wilde.

Vertara made a noise of agreement, and that was that.

* * *

At around five a.m, the door to Wilde's hospital room opened on silent hinges, light from the hallway spilling in.

Vertara had already left, heading back to the ship to get some rest before her shopping trip the next day, leaving just him and Wilde in the room. The teen was sleeping peacefully, and he had his haki running at full power, which was the only reason he sensed the nurse's approach. Opening his eyes into thin slits, he took a long look at the woman carefully examining Wilde's chart.

The woman was tall, dressed in a white nurse's uniform that failed to conceal her prominent chest with a skirt that barely reached her knees. Her heels added a few inches to her height, but even without them the top of her head would have reached the base of his throat. From what he could see, her face was unquestionably beautiful, shoulder length dark hair framing her face and subtly applied make-up enhancing her elegance. She had light green eyes and full lips currently turned downwards in displeasure as she flipped through the pages on the chart. When she put down the chart and started fiddling with Wilde's IV, he decided it was time to make his presence known.

Deliberately shifting his boot on the floor to make noise, he watched as the nurse tensed, straightening as his shadow eclipsed hers. She turned around, body language screaming defiance, and he had the privilege of seeing her falter when he looked her right in the eye and asked her seriously, "He going to be okay, Doc?"

Marshall couldn't describe the look that crossed her face, and he didn't try. All he cared about was her answer.

"Yes." Firm and implacable.

 _I won't let him be anything else_ , her eyes said.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are realizations and ROUGE calls HIM in a panic for a change.

Once assured of his thief's survival and back on the Coddiwomple trying to calm down enough to sleep, it hit him that _oh shit he'd used Conqueror's Haki_.

Sitting down hard on the side of his bed, he put his head between his knees and just breathed. Vision darkening around the edges, his pulse sounded like thunder in his ears as he rode the waves of adrenaline until the panic began to fade. Because _what the fuck_. He didn't think he had the third kind of haki! He wasn't actually Teach! Did the original Blackbeard even _have_ Conqueror's?! He couldn't remember! Gripping his hair in his hands, the thought that kept turning over and over in his mind was that he was _screwed_.

He was a D. A D with Conqueror's Haki. His dream of staying off the radar had been doomed from the start, hadn't it? He thought with helpless rage. Everything he did to take himself out of the equation, and he was still going to end up a wanted man. It might not be this year or the next, or even a decade from now, but it was going to happen.

Burying his face in his hands, he _howled_ , the sound full of hopelessness and despair. After lasting what felt like an eternity, the noise abruptly stopped...and Marshall silently broke down.

* * *

The next day dawned bright and clear, and after a night of venting, Marshall could admit that he felt a lot better. Part of his breakdown the night before might have been the Conqueror's Haki, but the majority of it was a combination of worrying about Wilde and the realization that he had a crew, people he actually liked and was afraid of losing, and the haki thing just tipped him over the edge.

Mostly he thought he just needed rest, but crying in the safety of his quarters had definitely helped take some weight off his shoulders. He'd managed to worry Vertara, the cannibal abnormally quiet and flicking concerned glances his way every few minutes, but after a few hours he managed to convince her he was fine. He apologized for worrying her, but she brushed it off, leaping up to hug him a bit longer than usual, gently nuzzling the side of his head before letting go.

Looking him in the eye, Vertara said firmly. "It's okay."

A beat.

"Yeah, it is." He smiled. Vertara smiled back, and that was all that needed to be said.

* * *

"So, how is your shopping spree going?" Marshall asked later that day.

"Not good," Vertara frowned. "The prices in the regular pharmacies are insane, at least five times higher than market for even common medicines. Prices have been going up in recent years; hell, even _bandages_ are overpriced. Most of the independent stores have closed down, or that's what Rosa at the herb store told me."

Grunting in acknowledgment, he raised a hand to rub his chin in thought, feeling the shadow of stubble and scowling. He pulled his shaving kit from his pocket and set to work, going through the motions with practiced ease as he told a bemused Vertara, "That isn't good. For prices to inflate so fast, something has to be going on, especially since the hospitals themselves don't seem to be affected." The doctor he'd spoken to hadn't mentioned it, then again the man might not know anything considering his nurse did most of the work.

Vertara nodded, lips pursed as she replied, "I'll try to find out more. I did manage to get some of the things on your list from stores that were going out of business and just trying to get rid of their stock, but it was all basic supplies that we already had." Shaking her head, she growled, annoyed by how difficult this hunt was becoming.

"Every little bit helps," he assured her, sensing her rising frustration. There was a lull in the conversation, then she spoke again.

"...Is Wilde going to recover?" Vertara asked quietly.

"Yes." He answered, complete confidence in his tone as he rinsed off his razor, wiping it down and putting it away. He patted his face dry with a towel before turning to meet Vertara's eyes, the gold color dark with worry. "He'll be on strict bed rest for awhile, but he'll be fine." He smiled as her shoulders slumped in relief.

"Of course, that doesn't mean I won't kick his ass to the Locker and back once he's on his feet," he added, lips twitching as Vertara threw her head back and laughed, after a moment giving in and joining her.

* * *

Marshall happened to be visiting Wilde when the thief finally began to stir.

He was sitting in the chair reading a book when his Observation Haki pinged, and he looked up to see Wilde's eyelids twitch. Closing his book with a firm thump, he commented wryly, "Awake, Sleeping Beauty?"

It was gratifying to see Wilde stiffen in shock, dread crossing his features for just a second before they went blank. Wilde said nothing, breathing slow and even. "Pretending to be asleep won't save you." He informed the thief blandly, "but I'm sure you'll be relieved to know that I plan to wait until you're fully recovered before I beat you within an inch of your life for the stunt you pulled."

A soft _eep_ came from the direction of the bed.

Marshall smirked.

* * *

"Okay, so from what I gathered, the reason pharmacy prices are so high and independent stores are closing down is because everyone is packing up to head for Drum Island in Paradise." Vertara reported. "The pharmacies have contracts with the hospitals on Asclepias so they _can't_ leave, but because their contracts ensure the hospitals pay a fixed price, they have to raise the prices for outside buyers in order to stay in business."

Well that certainly explained things, including why the doctors didn't realize anything was amiss. Marshall sighed, rubbing the bridge of nose and musing, "I suppose we should be grateful the hospital bill doesn't reflect the inflated prices."

Vertara snorted, amused despite herself, and slightly changed the subject. "How's Wilde doing?"

"Already irritated about being stuck in bed and trying to take it out on the nurses." He chuckled.

"'Trying to'?" Vertara repeated, looking at him curiously.

"Yup." He confirmed. "Pickpocketed three nurses before the head nurse came in to check on him and he tried it on her. She stopped him _cold_. The lecture she gave him, without raising her voice or anything, had him hiding under the sheets. He's been on his best behavior ever since."

By the end of his explanation Vertara had fallen down laughing, flat-out cackling as she rolled on the deck. Which, fair. It _was_ pretty damn funny.

* * *

Midway through Wilde's recovery period, Rouge called him.

He was in his quarters when Chuckles started ringing, and he glanced at the snail curiously as he reached to answer. Before he could get a word out, the snail shrieked.

" _Marshall! Marshall, is that you?!_ "

"Ow," he grumbled, rubbing his ear before raising his voice to answer, "Yeah, I'm here. You okay, Rouge?"

" _No! I'm not okay!_ " Rouge cried, and he was stunned to see _tears_ gathering in his snail's eyes. " _Roger is chasing after another woman! That cheater was making eyes at some two-bit hussy that doesn't even have a bounty! What does she have that I don't?! That mustachioed asshole barely even looked at me when we landed on the same island!_ "

Brain skipping a beat, Marshall blinked and gave his snail a weird look, wondering if Rouge was talking about a different Roger than the one they usually talked about. What she was telling him did _not_ sound like him at all.

....Not that he'd met him in person, but whatever.

After a great deal of crying and ranting on Rouge's part, he finally got the actual story out of her. It started out like a typical Rouge adventure story, but then she described the encounter with Roger and 'the hussy' and the way she took off, fed up with Roger's distraction. By the end, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry, covering his eyes with a hand as his shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. "Rouge-" he choked out, "I think you left a little early."

" _Huh?_ " Rouge made a confused sound.

"If I'm not mistaken, Roger wasn't after the woman but the necklace she was wearing - you know, the one _made of diamonds and rubies_? He was probably planning to give it to you but then you got jealous and ran off before he had the chance."

There was a long moment of silence before Rouge squeaked, "... _Oh. That...that makes sense._ "

"Did you even give the guy a chance to explain or just jump to conclusions and ignore his calls?" He asked, half-joking. The snail mirrored Rouge's awkward look, the woman on the other end saying nothing, and he paused. "You didn't, did you?"

"... _No._ " Is the whispered reply.

"...Damn it, Rouge." Marshall sighed. His sister owed him _so much_ alcohol for this.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilde's Devil Fruit is revealed!

"You know, there's something that's been bothering me," Marshall mused, taking a bite of an apple and chewing thoughtfully.

Now healed enough to sit up, Wilde looked over at his captain from where he was propped up by a mountain of pillows and asked curiously, "What is it, captain?"

Marshall swallowed his mouthful and asked, "Back on Enyo Island, why didn't you use your Dazzle-Dazzle Fruit powers on the mob to get away?" Before you got hurt, went unsaid, but from the way Wilde flushed and wouldn't meet his eyes, the thief heard it loud and clear.

Letting out a sheepish cough, Wilde mumbled something under his breath that Marshall had to strain to hear. When what the thief said registered, his mind blanked and he had to ask Wilde to repeat himself. Fidgeting with his sheets, the teen did so, this time louder so there was no mistake that he'd heard right. "I forgot about them, okay? The only time I ever used them was during that fight with Baldwin and they were _useless_!" He spat the last word as though it left a bad taste in his mouth, "My skills as a thief have been enough until now, so why should I bother with a power that doesn't do anything?"

Raising an eyebrow, Marshall repeated, "''Useless'?" Amused, he shook his head and leaned back, idly tossing the apple core from hand to hand as he said, "The Dazzle-Dazzle Fruit is far from useless, brat. The main thing it does is create sparkles of light, but with practice you could do things like blind your enemies, cause vertigo and confusion in crowds, send signals to crewmembers, illuminate caves and passages, and that's just for starters. All fruits have a learning curve, remember that."

Leaving behind a shocked Wilde, he stood up and stretched, heading out the door in search of more food. Not even looking, he threw the core over his shoulder and heard it rattle as it landed squarely in the trash can at Wilde's bedside.

* * *

"So how's the medicine hunt going? Any luck?" He asked Vertara a day later.

The cannibal grimaced, exposing her fangs as she replied, "Not good, captain. I found a few more things at slightly more reasonable prices after some haggling, but that barely made a dent in the list."

He supposed he should be grateful that haggling was all she did to get better prices, but he shared her frustration over the high prices. If he thought they could afford to wait, he'd hold off on shopping for medical supplies until Wilde was healed and they could head for Drum Island in Paradise, but knowing his luck that was a recipe for disaster. So all he could do was tell Vertara to do her best and keep looking.

Maybe he could buy some of it from the hospital itself? It was bound to be cheaper, even if they would just get the surplus....Unfortunately, he remembered that Vertara had already gotten the more common things on his list, which was probably all that the hospital would be willing to sell him.

Perhaps it was time to talk to the nurses.

* * *

Talking to the nurses (all of them female, for some reason) yielded some promising leads on the equipment he was looking for, which he passed along to Vertara.

It also revealed some interesting information about the doctors; namely that most of them couldn't tell their heads from their asses without a Log Pose and clear directions. The training at the Medical Academy had gone downhill ever since the instructors there had moved to Drum and other islands that offered them greater pay and benefits. The nurses' school faired better, but that just meant that the nurses knew more than the doctors, as he'd suspected. Nice to be proven right, but also rather alarming.

The best physician in the hospital, one particularly chatty nurse told him, was the head nurse, the very woman he'd caught sneaking into Wilde's room to check on his thief. That reassured him. The woman clearly knew what she was doing.

By the time Wilde healed enough that they could leave, he was more than ready to set sail and leave the island of Asclepias far behind them. He helped Wilde gather up his things and got the instructions for the brat's aftercare, Wilde just as happy as he and Vertara were to leave. When they got to the docks, however, Marshall received an unexpected surprise.

* * *

"No."

The woman's lips pressed into a thin line, visibly unhappy with his blunt refusal. The head nurse from the hospital stood between them and the Coddiwomple, dressed in casual clothes and several bags beside her feet, her intentions clear. "Why not?" She asked sharply.

"My ship," he ground out, "is _not_ a hotel."

"I know, and I don't plan to treat it as such. I'll pull my own weight," she returned, "you need a doctor onboard if you plan to sail for any length of time, and I am qualified to fill that position."

Vertara and Wilde stood back, watching their captain argue with the elegant woman, the discussion becoming more heated until finally Marshall threw his hands up in defeat, declaring, "Fine! Do what you want!" Walking around her to board his ship, his lips reluctantly lifted and he announced, "Welcome aboard, Doc!"

There was no mistaking the satisfaction on the woman's face as she picked up her bags and followed him onto the Coddiwomple. "Pleased to be here, captain,"

"The name's Marshall D. Teach," he grunted, untieing the rope keeping them tethered to the dock and preparing to set sail.

"Olivia, and don't you forget it." Was the reply, and he laughed.

"Zehahaha! Wouldn't dream of it!"

And with that, they were off.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which SITeach is the designated chef and a birthday is had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dang these obscure manga plot bunnies...T.T

Considering the fact that Wilde was a street kid, Olivia practically lived on tea and salads, and the only recipes Vertara knew included human flesh, it was no surprise that Marshall found himself in charge of cooking by default. Much to the three's surprise, he was rather good at it.

"I really don't know why you're surprised; I'm a D and thus eat _a lot_ ," he set down plates of steaming food, snorting in amusement at their bewildered expressions as he pulled out a chair and sat down. "Since I refuse to walk around with a gut the size of this ship and don't feel like paying a king's ransom at restaurants, it was easier to learn how to make my own food." Thank you, Annie, for having the patience of a saint. And forgiving him for all those destroyed pots and pans back when he was first starting out.

Thanks to a rigorous training regime, there wasn't an ounce of fat on him. He never missed a day of shaving and his teeth were white and straight and, most importantly, all there, but he still vividly remembered what Blackbeard looked in Canon. Yeah, he was gonna pass on that, thanks.

Watching as Vertara, Wilde and Olivia picked up their silverware and started eating, he hid a grin behind his drink when the exclamations of surprise started.

"Wow, this is really good!"

"Delicious!"

"How did you get the meat so crispy?"

Taking Vertara's preference for meat into account, he made sure to include plenty of protein in tonight's dinner, a creamy pasta with meatballs and cheese sauce with several varieties of vegetables mixed in. In answer to Olivia's question, he shrugged, "Sorry, trade secret." Namely that he mixed the vegetables into the meat and sauce, but it was fun watching them try to figure it out.

He took a bite of his own food chewed, frowning thoughtfully.

 _Hmm_.

Damn.

Needed salt.

* * *

Five months passed his nineteenth birthday, he'd finally grown as tall as he was going to get, standing at a whopping eleven foot three and a half inches. Luckily for him, the shipwrights on Olympios had thought ahead and built everything with space in mind or he would have been bumping his head on _everything_.

He actually tended to forget how big he was compared to regular people considering this was the New World and _normal_ was in the eye of the beholder. Sometimes the knowledge snuck up on him though, such as when Vertara asked to brush his hair. He wound up sitting on the deck while Vertara perched on the railing in order to reach the top of his head. His hair reached nearly passed his thighs so the bottom portion was easier for her to reach, but still.

It was surreal, or at least it was until he relaxed under the repetitive motions and drifted off.

He woke up to find his hair braided. The design was surprisingly complex, but also looked pretty good in his hair. It was tied off with a floral hairtie but whatever. Still looked good. After a minute, he shrugged and went to go find something to eat.

* * *

His crew was up to something, he thought, watching with narrowed eyes as Wilde and Olivia had a hurried, whispered conversation before both darted off. He had yet to see Vertara that day, and since they were currently docked in a fairly bustling trade port, he was mildly concerned.

It was good they were bonding, he thought, inwardly sighing and doing his best to ignore the lingering suspicion in the back of his mind. He was taking inventory, checking to see what supplies they were low on or out of entirely. Hearing another whispered conversation behind him, he called out.

"Since the two of you are so bored, why don't you make yourselves useful and wash all the dirty clothes and bedding?"

A beat of silence, then there was a hissed argument before Wilde cursed loudly. Apparently he lost the argument.

Chuckling under his breath, Marshall made a note that they were about out of fruit, now much more relaxed. Whatever they were planning, he would find out eventually, and since his instincts were telling him that it wasn't anything bad, why not let them have their fun?

* * *

What his crew was up to turned out to be a coat.

A Captain's coat with gold buttons, colored a dark purple that matched the Coddiwomple's trim and far too large to be for anyone else. He blinked, standing there numbly and holding the coat as his crew watched eagerly, Vertara actually bouncing, grinning ear to ear as she watched his reaction. Olivia and Wilde's eyes were shining, their excitement less obvious than Vertara's but no less real.

He took a deep breath, a tide of emotion rising and threatening to pull him under. "So, this was what you three were planning, huh?" His tone was unmistakably fond; smiling helplessly, he pulled on the coat, laughing when the trio cheered.

"I came up with the idea," Vertara grinned.

"I stole one of your shirts to get your measurements," Wilde confessed, looking smug as he made the admission.

"And I told them which island we were due to stop at was likely to have what they were looking for," Olivia said.

Really, what else could he do but laugh and pull his ridiculous crew into a massive hug. If any of them noticed his eyes were misty, no one said anything, returning the embrace just as tightly.

* * *

"We need to have a party!"

He was sitting at his desk and working on the ship's log when the door to his quarters slammed open, and he looked up to see Vertara silhouetted in the doorway. Considering the source of that statement, he could only ask.

"...Why?"

Vertara placed her hands on her hips and announced, "Because it's Olivia's birthday!"

"How do you know that?" He wondered.

She shrugged. "We talk."

"...Fair point. Okay, let's have a party." He agreed, smiling slightly as he watched the cannibal throw her arms up in victory. Then something occurred to him and he frowned.

"What kind of cake does she like?"

* * *

(After a great deal of internal debate, he settled on a chocolate and vanilla marbled cake with chocolate icing topped with cherries.

Olivia loved it, actually crying happy tears when he brought it out during the party.

He was rather proud of himself for that; her awed, grateful expression was the best response he could have gotten.)

* * *

The party was a bit short-notice, but he thought they pulled it off rather well.

Olivia was kept distracted by some herbal remedies common to the port town but not found anywhere else while the rest of them ran to get things ready. When the doctor got back, she was greeted by party streamers and a hastily made banner with 'Happy Birthday!' on it. She stopped in surprise, one foot on the ship and one on the gangplank, and before she could say anything Vertara ran forward and pulled her the rest of the way aboard.

Wilde had decorated while he cooked the food, Vertara setting up tables and chairs on deck and then the pair had run off to find last minute presents. He himself wasn't as pressed since he already had something that could be used as a present, thus he was free to concentrate on the food. He whipped up a feast fit for royalty and set up quite an impressive buffet on one of the tables.

After Olivia cut the cake (shedding a few more joyful tears in the process) and they all had their fill of food it was time for presents.

There weren't a lot of gifts, but they each got her something and hey, it was the thought that counted.

From Wilde, a pair of boots that would hold up better in the sea air than her current footwear. It was a thoughtful gift, and Olivia's smile was ever-so-slightly watery as she thanked him.

It went rather well with Vertara's gift, which was a waterproof doctor's bag. A must have for any seafaring doctor, Vertara claimed, and Olivia agreed. His own present wasn't actually 'useful', but he thought she would still like it.

(He'd already had it made a week after she joined the crew and just never found the time to give it to her. It might be a cop out to use it as a birthday gift, but hey, what they didn't know and all that...)

His gift to Olivia was a bracelet. It was a lot like Rouge's, but the glass beads were a mix of bright gold and dark amber, the colors swirling together. It sparkled beautifully under the sun, and Olivia smiled as she slid it on, holding it up to admire it. He was happy that she liked it, and he smiled back.

The party was officially a success.

"Good job," he whispered, sharing discreet high-fives with Vertara and Wilde when Olivia wasn't looking. The pair grinned.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of merriment and laughter.

(Vertara's rendition of 'happy birthday' got a round of laughter all its own.)

* * *

"Hey, do you know when Wilde's birthday is?"

"A month from now."

"... _Fuck_."

A pause.

"He likes blueberries, if that helps?"

"I can work with that."


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haki training!
> 
> OR
> 
> In which SITeach gets to throw potatoes at his crew for a good reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many ideas, so little time. QAQ Crossover bunnies are EVIL!

"Captain, can you tell me again what the purpose of this is?" Olivia asked, voice rather unsure as Marshall checked to make sure her blindfold was secure.

Wilde and Vertara were already blindfolded, more resigned than nervous as he answered, "Haki training, specifically Observation."

"And you have to throw potatoes at us because...?"

"Because the goal is to sense attacks coming and avoid them, and this way if you fail you won't actually get hurt," his tone was full of laughter as he asked rhetorically, "unless you'd prefer I throw knives at you instead?"

" _Potatoes are fine!_ " Three panicked voices yelled.

Marshall cackled, stepping back and picking up a potato as he selected his target.

The spud flew threw the air, and training officially began with a chorus of yelps and colorful swear words.

* * *

"Ow...that sucked." Wilde grumbled, examining a particularly vivid bruise on his shoulder.

"But it's for a good reason," Vertara responded, bending and contorting into various shapes to stretch and relax sore muscles. She had the most bruises due to boasting that she barely even felt the potatoes hitting, the captain responding by coating the potatoes he tossed at _her_ in Armament. She _definitely_ felt those.

Olivia winced, rolling her shoulders and groaning when she heard the 'pop'. "That doesn't mean that Captain didn't enjoy it," she snorted, the other two nodding in agreement. Honestly, with the amount of trouble they gave him, he'd earned some fun at their expense. It wasn't like the potatoes, Armament excluded, actually hurt. Once she was done with her own stretches, she made her way over to confirm that neither Wilde or Vertara had any injuries beyond bruises.

They didn't, but some of those bruises were _impressive_.

"We already know Armament, so why do we need to do this?" Wilde complained. Privately, Olivia somewhat agreed. She was just starting to learn Armament haki herself, but Observation seemed slightly pointless if they were able to shrug off any attacks that did land, so why did Captain insist they learn it?

A few days later, they find out.

* * *

It was early in the morning when a pirate ship caught sight of the Coddiwomple and decided it made a decent target, the opening salvo sending up large plumes of water and the loud _boom_ of cannon fire jolting them from a sound sleep.

The sun was just beginning to rise as they stumbled out of their quarters, struggling to pull on shirts, shoes, or in Vertara's case not even bothering as they made their way to the deck to see what was happening. The moment the captain saw the black sail of the attacking ship, the Jolly Roger some kind of rodent skull and crossbones, his expression changed and the fight was on.

The first pirate to try boarding was punched back to his ship, snapping the main mast and probably the pirate's spine. Taking the battle to the pirate ship, the three of them followed their captain, jumping first to the railing and then down to the deck. They had the element of surprise; the pirates had them outnumbered and didn't expect them to fight back, let alone as fiercely as their captain.

Blood swiftly stained the deck, their captain leaving a trail of slaughter behind him as he made a beeline towards the cabins.

Wilde yelped, ducking beneath a swarm of pistol-shots and lashing out with his knives, cutting tendons and slashing throats. Dodging the arterial spray, he ran and slid through the crowd of enemies, instinctively pickpocketing whoever came within reach before he stabbed them. The battle was a cacophony of chaos and confusion, he didn't even have time to _think_. Bending backwards to avoid the swipe of a sword, he kicked up and rammed his booted heel into his attacker's jaw as he turned the move into a flip.

Landing on the deck in a crouch, he caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye and, without really registering what he saw, threw one of his knives.

There was a pirate trying to sneak up behind Olivia. His knife just barely missed Olivia's face, flying by to bury itself in the pirate's throat, and he was more shaken than he cared to admit as he watched the body fall backwards. He'd nearly hit Olivia, could have _killed_ her if he'd thrown his knife a few inches to the side-!

Standing there shaking, he didn't even notice as the battle began winding down...not until Vertara lunged passed him. There was a choked off scream, and then Olivia is whirling around and throwing a scalpel at someone aiming a pistol at Vertara's head. The medical tool struck the gunner's hand, distracting him long enough for Wilde to snap out of his shocked haze.

Wilde used his fruit to set off a burst of light in the gunner's eyes, blade following a second later to almost sever the man's head from his body. The movement left him overextended, and one of the surviving pirates rushed to take advantage of the opening, cutlass rushing towards his exposed neck.

And then the captain was there.

_Crack!_

With a sound like breaking glass, the sword shattered into pieces the moment it made contact with their captain's hair. Hair that was shining a gleaming black in the brightening light.

Armament haki.

The pirate only had time to gawk at his shattered blade before the captain's hand closed around his throat. Then it was over, the last body falling to the deck.

"How...how did you do that?" Wilde asked, subdued and ashamed of how shaken he was. Olivia's legs were also trembling, but not nearly as bad as his. Vertara was the only one who seemed fine, covered in blood as she was.

"Observation Haki." The captain grunted. "Get good enough at it and you can tell what's happening around you, even through walls and on opposite sides of a ship." Turning away, he waved a hand over his shoulder and said, "Look through the ship and take whatever you want. I'm heading back."

Watching him leave, Vertara shifted her feet and said quietly, "Marshall told me he coats his hair in Armament as training, but this is the first time I've really seen it in action..."

After that, none of them spoke as they moved about the ship, taking anything they could use or was remotely valuable. Seeing the destruction their captain had left behind, the trio wondered uneasily what could have set him off...

(" _Bad memories,_ " he later mumbled, chugging whiskey like water as the three of them looked on in concern, by unspoken agreement keeping their distance but not leaving their captain alone.)

* * *

The next day, Marshall came out onto the Coddiwomple's deck to see his three crewmembers waiting for him.

Next to their feet were sacks of potatoes.

* * *

Watching Wilde look skeptically at the bracelet of clear glass beads he gave him as a present, Marshall snickered.

"What's this for?" Wilde demanded, eyes narrowed as he turned the bracelet over in his hands.

The thief's confusion was understandable: he'd given Vertara and Olivia accessories made of glass beads, (it was something of a tradition at this point, he privately admitted), but those beads were colored. The ones he'd used to make Wilde's gift were clear, the refraction of light through the small orbs throwing off tiny rainbows.

Marshall's grin widened, "Figure it out yourself!" He laughed, almost wheezing at the look of confusion and suspicion on Wilde's face.

* * *

(In the very next battle, Wilde used his bracelet to shoot a concentrated beam of light into the eyes of someone attempting to stab Vertara in the back, likely burning their retinas beyond all recognition. The poor bastard only had time to scream before Wilde finished them off.

Turning around and meeting his eyes, Wilde bared his teeth in a defiant grin. " _I figured it out._ "

Throwing his head back, Marshall laughed, off-handedly tossing someone through a wall.

"That you did! Good job, brat!"

One eye twitching, Wilde yelled, "Damn it, quit calling me that!"

" _ZEHAHAHAHAHAHA!_ ")


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a change of pace, a peek at the thoughts of the newest member of the crew!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly serious note: I hope everyone reading this stays safe in this trying time. I wish you all the best of health.

Olivia really didn't know what to think of her new captain.

Truth be told, joining the small crew was pure impulse on her part. A large part of it was because the captain, Marshall D. Teach, looked at her and saw not a nurse, but a _doctor_. He looked passed the uniform and saw someone who knew what she was doing and decided that that person was worthy of trusting with the life of one of his crew. That single look and question (" _Is he going to be alright, Doc?_ ") was enough to shake her to the core of her soul, shattering the veil of distance she'd drawn around herself to keep the hurt of what she wasn't allowed to do from reaching her.

Her captain probably didn't know, but the Medical Island Asclepias had a law that stated that women could only be nurses, never doctors. All her life she'd raged and fought against everything she wasn't allowed to do - sneaking into doctor's classes, spying on study sessions between the doctoral students, going to the library in the dead of night to read the books reserved for doctors-in-training, learning everything she could about the human body and how it worked...

And it. Still. Wasn't. Enough!

Eliza Nathalie. Herman Jacob. Isa Demitrine. Bonaxew Trevorn and dozens of others, all people that could have been saved that weren't, all because she wasn't allowed to do what needed to be done.

The doctors at the hospital had been completely clueless! More concerned with appearance than skill, _they_ were the ones with the power. Even after clawing her way to the position of head nurse in spite of all the obstacles in her way, all the power plays and backstabbing behind the scenes, she still hadn't been able to _do_ anything!

Forced to turn her back, to look the other way when things that should have been done weren't, when Captain Marshall had brought the injured Wilde to her hospital something inside her had snapped. Thanks to the demands of the terrifying captain, the case was handed to her and the head doctor, and she _refused_ to let this patient die.

The surgery was difficult, one of the hardest she'd ever performed, but she'd done it. Wilde had lived and fully recovered and a passion that she'd thought she'd buried had awakened and begun to burn anew.

It was that passion that drove her to sneak into Wilde's room that night to check on _her_ patient. That was the start of it all as far as she was concerned, the first pebble of an avalanche. She packed everything she owned and met the three at the port, arguing and reasoning until she was allowed aboard. It was only when she was setting her bags down on the floor of the doctor's quarters attached to the infirmary ( _her_ infirmary) that it truly hit her what she'd done.

She was officially a ship doctor for a crew that may or may not be pirates, far from Asclepias and getting further by the second. Standing in the middle of a surprisingly well-stocked infirmary, she'd looked around and felt both physically and mentally adrift.

Ever since she was a little girl she'd wanted to heal people, and now she had a chance to actually do it.

Always taller than other girls her age yet born to shorter than normal parents, she'd been fascinated by the human body and how it worked, that fascination changing to a burning desire to learn how to help the body keep on working and repair itself when her parents were killed in a building collapse. To that end she studied, but now was the only chance she had to use the knowledge she'd gained.

Olivia could admit that at first she'd been unsure about her new captain, but after talking to Vertara and Wilde and then the birthday party...she made up her mind.

Looking down at her new bracelet while wearing her new boots with her new doctor's bag sitting next to her, eyes a bit misty as they traced the beautiful blend of colors, she smiled.

Her captain didn't know her past, but maybe, just maybe, she would decide to tell him.

* * *

Staring out at the darkened sea as he took his turn on watch, Marshall didn't react as Vertara leapt up to perch on the railing of the crow's nest next to him.

"I had a strange conversation with our doctor today," he said idly, voice bland as though he were commenting on the weather.

"Really?" Vertara asked, vivid gold eyes curious as she glanced at him, "what was it about?"

"Three hours ago, I didn't know her life story. Now I do." He responded.

"Oh."

A few minutes passed in silence before he said, "you don't seem surprised."

She shrugged. "We knew it was going to happen eventually."

"'We'?"

Vertara gave him a look and he shrugged. "I know, I know, you guys talk. Fair enough."

"So how'd it go?" Vertara asked after a moment.

"Don't you already know?" He wondered.

"Yeah, but I thought I'd ask how you thought it went." She shrugged.

He flashed her a quick smile and chuckled, "I thought it went pretty well, considering I said like four words through the entire conversation."

"You are a great listener," Vertara agreed.

"Thanks."

The rest of the watch passed in peaceful silence.

* * *

He knew it was going to happen, his crew meeting Rouge's, he just didn't think the meeting would be quite so...explosive.

In a good way, interesting enough.

He sat on the beach and leaned back, watching his crew and Rouge's light the fireworks made by one of her newest crew members, the explosions painting the night sky in a vibrant display of colors. It was incredible, and he made sure to applaud along with everyone else.

"They're getting along pretty well!" Rouge laughed, dropping down to sit beside him.

"Like a house on fire," he agreed, the two of them sharing a grin as the show continued, Wilde just drunk enough to attempt to match some of the smaller fireworks with his powers.

Both captains closed their eyes until the swearing stopped, laughing so hard they were in danger of spilling their drinks all the while.

* * *

("By the way, my name's Marshall-"

"Oh, we know who you are! The captain talks about you a lot!"

A beat, then helplessly.

"What do you tell people about me??"

Innocent whistling.)


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mix some meet and greets, some shenanigans and a dash of feels, blend well and enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun chapter to write, especially the epithets of Rouge's crew. :)

The newest members of Rouge's crew were the practically identical diving expert Declan and Shiban the fireworks maker, both of whom used spears, stood five foot three, had the same body types, and rushed to say that no, they were _not_ related.

With their blond hair, blue eyes, and faces that could have been mirror images of each other, hardly anyone believed their protests. Most of the assembled group sent them dubious looks, side-eyeing their resemblance and half-heartedly nodding in agreement when they insisted. The two men groaned in unison, which didn't help their case.

(Marshall asked Rouge a little later, and she laughed and told him that no, they really _weren't_ related.)

Once they got used to it, none of Rouge's crew were making a big deal out of it, so neither did his. It probably helped that the way they dressed made telling them apart easy; Declan wore form-fitting black trousers, straw sandals, and a tight black t-shirt under a dark blue Wano-style top that he usually kept shrugged down around his waist, while in contrast Shiban stuck to lighter colors. Pastel yellows and pinks and greens swirling and dancing across his shirt in a fantastic explosion of color, cream-colored pants and soft gray boots topped with a bandanna dyed a sunburst of color.

Rouge called them 'the Twins', and the rest of her crew followed suit, much to the two's chagrin.

There was also a woman lurking on the periphery of the gathering, sticking to the shadows and vanishing the moment she realized someone had spotted her. Pretty much everyone had glimpsed her at least once, but no one said anything. Curious, he poked Rouge and wordlessly pointed towards the woman's current hiding place.

His sister shrugged wryly as she admitted, "I don't really know why she's here - she randomly appeared on the ship one day and kept hanging around, so I'm thinking of inviting her to join the crew." She then added, belatedly. "Her name's Andrea."

"Well, at least you know _her_ name before inviting her to join your crew," he joked, laughing as her face went red and she turned away with a huff.

He could see she was smiling in spite of herself at the reference to the first time they met, uncrossing her arms to return the embrace when he threw an arm over her shoulders, joining in laughing at the memory, the light of the bonfire reflecting off her bracelet and brand new diamond necklace and turning her hair the color of molten gold.

It was almost two in the morning on the second day since they met up and the party was still going strong, cheers and joyful laughter filling the air as the crews mingled. Olivia was talking to Frieda, the pair of doctors exchanging tips for dealing with difficult patients. Wilde was surrounded by various members of Rouge's crew, enthusiastically showing off his powers, cheers rising from the small crowd, Daisy and Jane calling out requests and the thief doing his best to oblige, doing everything from changing the color of the light he made to drawing designs in the air (Marshall said nothing because, you know, training). From the corner of his eye he could see Vertara challenging Wildred to an arm-wrestling contest and was kind of curious about how that would turn out.

Standing up, he dipped down and caught up a nearly-full bottle of alcohol from the sand nearby, throwing his head back and taking a swig before belting out.

" _Fifteen men on a dead man's chest,_

 _Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!_ "

Grinning, he brandished the bottle containing that exact drink and pulled a laughing Rouge to her feet, spinning her around as he sang.

" _Drink and the devil have done for the rest,_

 _Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!_ "

* * *

An unknown amount of time later, Marshall woke up, finding himself sprawled beneath a palm tree to see a mildly guilty-looking Wilde and several members of Rouge's crew with similar expressions standing in front of him, Vertara and the rest just looking amused.

The first words out of his mouth were, "Did Vertara win the contest?"

" _That's_ the first thing he asks?" Daisy asked, tilting her head in confusion.

"Captain likes to focus on the important things," Vertara replied.

* * *

(As it turns out, his recording dial had been on the entire party so he did eventually find out who won that competition, but only after he dealt with the minor situation of Wilde's lightshow the previous night, fueled to greater heights by Daisy, Lykan, Jane and Stephen's requests, both being seen by a passing Glitterian ship and being the equivalent of a marriage proposal in their culture.

Glitterians as a people were humanoid, just with sparkling hair, eyes, nails, and random patches of scales that glowed in the slightest amount of light and Glitteria's culture as a whole _worshipped_ all things bright and shining, so a proposal via prismatic aurora created by Wilde channeling his Devil Fruit powers through his bracelet? Totally believable.

It took some fast talking, but he managed to convince the Glitterian princess that it was all a misunderstanding and she didn't want to marry Wilde anyway. How he did it was simple; he just made her realize that she was in love with her head guard who, by the way, had been secretly pining after her for years.

Long story short, the princess and her guard got together. He and Wilde wound up getting knighted and awarded the title of Prismic, the Glitterian equivalent of Marquis, both of them given medals to prove their new rank before the Glitterians departed.

Rouge and her crew stood back, the blonde D grinning like, well, a D as her crew watched in stunned awe as he and his crew waved goodbye to the retreating ship.

"What just happened?" Shamari spoke, completely bewildered as she looked around at her equally baffled crewmates.

Rouge just cackled, saying proudly, "I told you guys he was awesome!"

"Just as you'd expect from Captain's brother," Claus agreed, Jane and Frieda with him nodding sagely.)

* * *

(Vertara won her competition with Wildred two out of three.)

* * *

"I've been meaning to ask, is that a new coat?" Rouge asked, staring curiously at the new addition to her fellow D's wardrobe.

Marshall smiled, looking down at the dark purple fabric covering his arms and chuckling as he looked back at Rouge and answered, "Yeah, my three decided that since I was the captain I should look the part."

Rouge looked him over from head to toe, taking in the ensemble of white shirt, black pants, black boots, purple sash with his new dagger sheathed at his waist and his white bandana, all capped off by the royal purple coat. After a bit of thought, she nodded. "It fits. Very pirate-like," she added.

That...really wasn't what he was going for, he just wanted an outfit that would stand up to life at sea. After a moment he told her so.

"Too bad, all that's missing is a hat." Was her response.

Unfortunately for him, Olivia heard her, told the other two, and his three idiots took the idea and freaking _ran with it_.

* * *

"What. Is. _That_?" Marshall asked, eyebrow twitching as he stared at the _monstrosity_ Vertara was trying to give him.

It was big. And yellow. And dear Davy Jones, the _sequins_. He shuddered, recoiling and hissing as the redhead stretched out to try and put it on him. Off to the side, Kimberly buried her face in her hands, shoulders and tail shaking with laughter. He could hear the muffled shrieks and mentally vowed revenge on the mermaid.

"Come on! Every captain needs a hat!" Wilde laughed, Olivia and Vertara sporting shit-eating grins of their own as he continued to back away.

Eyes narrowed, he stopped mid-motion. That's it, no more mister nice guy! Suddenly covered with a sheen of black, his hands lashed and caught all three by the backs of their shirts. The dreaded hat fell from Vertara's grip in surprise, tumbling to the ground where he happily stepped on it, striding over to a clear spot on the beach and tossing the troublemakers onto it. They hit the ground with an explosion of sand, looking up to see their captain looming over them with an outright _vindictive_ smirk on his face, shivers running down their spines at the expression.

"Since you guys have so much free time, I think it's time for some _intensive training_." He cracked his knuckles. The three at his feet broke out into cold sweat.

"... _meep!_ "

They tried to run, not that it helped.

Well, Wilde learned Shave, but aside from that? Sheer terror for all three of his crew.

(After the injuries healed, they admitted that they _might_ have gone a bit too far.

"Don't fuck with my brother," was Rouge's sage advice.

As they had seen the whole thing, her crew agreed. Kimberly whimpered, clutching her tail in fear.)

* * *

By the time the two crews parted ways, fear of retribution had Kimberly jumping at shadows.

Marshall acted completely normal the entire time the mermaid gradually degenerated into a nervous wreck and then, the morning of their departure, he struck.

The _Queen of Spades_ was a small dot on the horizon when a bombardment of piercing, bloodcurdling shrieks reached their ears.

Cackling so hard he could barely breathe, he was gasping for breath as he turned the _Coddiwomple's_ wheel, taking them in the opposite direction.

* * *

On what he would claim was a whim if asked, he keeps all of Rouge's bounty posters and those of her crew from oldest to newest in the bottom drawer of his nightstand with the vague idea of binding the loose pages into a book and giving it to her as a present one day.

Portgas D. 'Queen of Spades' Rouge.

Cumulos 'Whirlwind' Clyde.

'Marksman' Minervon.

'Ferocious' Frieda.

'Calamity' Jane.

Darrow 'Avalanche' Wildred.

Hollybell 'Pixie' Daisy.

Moonshine 'Drunken Wolf' Lykan.

'Whitecap' Kimberly.

'Nightshade' Tabitha.

Laganda 'Deadly Dance' Shamari.

Haroldic 'Hammer' Stephen.

Mirabelle 'Cutting Line' Linda.

'Twin Spears' Declan and Shiban.

And so on.

(He never throws away a single one.)


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which SITeach sees a blast from the past. Also, some Canon-typical awfulness is (somewhat) shone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, planting season is in full swing so updates will be a bit sporadic. People gotta eat, ya know. ;) Everybody wash your hands and stay safe!

A month after they parted ways with Rouge and her crew, Marshall made the spur of the moment decision to start teaching his three crewmembers the Six Powers. Wilde already knew Shave but could use a bit of practice with it, Vertara was a natural at Iron Body, and Olivia took to Life Return like a fish to water once he explained the idea behind it. As for him, it never hurt to stay in practice.

It was fun to mix things up; sparring without haki meant he used skills that he'd mostly set aside in favor of Observation and Armament, such as the Tempest Kick and Paper Arts. On the other hand, Shave and Moonwalk he got a _lot_ of mileage out of.

Just for the hell of it, he invited his crew to use their newly learned skills plus haki and try to take him down.

They took the bait, and he was pleased to say he swabbed the deck with them.

"Nice try!" He laughed, standing over the trio's groaning bodies. "You catch on fast, but you still have a long way to go!" Turning around, he waved over his shoulder as he headed towards the galley, calling back as he did so, "lunch will be ready when you all get done laying around, but I make no promises about not eating it all!"

Hearing the furious cursing from his exhausted crew as they struggled to get back on their feet, it was a safe bet that they'd be stepping up their training, if only for the chance to punch him in the face.

Chuckling under his breath as he started pulling out ingredients for a calorie rich meal, he was looking forward to finding out what they came up with.

* * *

_Caw!_

Eyes blinking open at the familiar call, Marshall yawned and stretched, standing up from where he'd been stretched out in the shadow of the mast. Making his way to the albatross perched on the railing, he was already pulling out a thousand Beri, much to the bird's delight.

Handing over the money, he accepted a paper, asking idly, "so how's it going?"

_Caw-caw._

"That's good. You been doing alright?"

_Caw!_

"Glad to hear it." A pause, "I've been wondering, how come you're the only News Coo I've seen? Are you the only one in the New World or something?"

_Ca-caw..._

The bird looked shifty and wouldn't meet his eyes. Right...he didn't want to know, he decided. For lack of anything better to do, he gave the bird some leftover Sea King meat and waved as it flew off.

Several loose papers fell out as he shuffled the pages and he gathered them up. Noticing that two of the bounties seemed stuck together, he carefully separated them, only for his breath to catch, eyes widening in shock when he saw the formerly hidden poster.

* * *

The picture showed a grown woman, slim and toned with dark hair and a vicious grin on her face as she looked at the photographer.

It was her. His childhood friend Rebecca ('Bandit Becky', her wanted poster proclaimed her). User of the Rat-Rat Fruit, Model: Raccoon, worth 200 million Beris and a member of the Whitebeard Pirates. The one he sent to take his place on the Moby Dick years ago, back when he thought he'd never have to leave his home island...

He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the parchment as he smiled, whispering, "I knew you'd make it, girl."

And if his voice held the echo of long ago memories, he was the only one in the room to hear it.

(Rebecca's bounty joined Rouge's in his nightstand, and only he would know the reason why.)

* * *

The next island they docked at was a spring island, and even before they dropped the _Coddiwomple's_ anchor Marshall could sense that something wasn't right.

Aphrodite Island billed itself as an 'entertainment island', screams of delight and happy laughter reaching their ears even as they drifted into port, the main town glittering like a chest of jewels in the night. Despite the joyful appearance, something in the air put him on edge. He scowled, telling the three hovering behind him, "No one goes anywhere alone, captain's orders."

Despite their eagerness to run off and explore, the seriousness in his voice sobered them enough that they held back and nodded, walking down the gangplank instead of running and sticking together as they headed towards the shopping district.

Captain's orders were absolute. If they knew anything, they knew that.

* * *

Sometimes he _hated_ being right, Marshall groaned.

As it turned out, when Aphrodite Island said it was an entertainment island, it didn't just mean the wholesome legal kind. A day after they docked, he discovered the thriving drug dens, underground fight rings, and of course he couldn't forget the brothels. Mostly because the owner of one of them actually had the _balls_ to walk up to him and ask him how much he wanted for Vertara and Olivia.

Said owner quickly found himself lacking a certain piece of equipment, and his knife was in need of a thorough cleaning.

He searched through the various shops and stalls, pointedly ignoring certain alleyways and 'invitations', his Observation running at full power as he kept watch on Vertara, Wilde and Olivia. Less reputable parts aside, he picked up some supplies and presents for Rouge and his crew at a pretty good price.

Maybe, just maybe, they'd be able to make it off the island without something exploding.

* * *

" _Damn it!_ "

Off to his right, half-dressed women and men ran screaming from a burning building as it collapsed, flames and embers leaping towards the sky. Ash was thick in the air, staining his clothes and skin and bringing back unpleasant memories.

Snarling, he reached out and broke a brothel guard's neck, the body hitting the ground with a muffled thump as he stalked through the chaotic streets of the Dolos District, the home of Aphrodite Island's worst, most vile practices. Over half the workers were slaves, in name and otherwise.

Case in point, when he broke into the 'business' that had kidnapped Olivia beneath the distraction caused by a bakery exploding, he was greeted by the sight of men and women in chains, bloody and terrified as they attended various 'clients'.

Those clients were dead in short order, and upon asking one of the less terrified slaves he was directed towards the back of the building where the new arrivals were kept. On his way there, he broke the collars and shackles off the slaves and Shaved towards where he sensed Olivia.

He entered the room where he sensed her just in time to see her toss a leather-clad, piercing-laden woman to the ground and stomp on her, screaming, " _Haki, bitch!_ "

....Alright then.

"You okay?" He asked, even though his Observation told him she wasn't injured.

Blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes, Olivia straightened up and said briskly, "I'm fine. Woman wouldn't know how to calculate a dosage to save her life," she snorted.

"Right. Let's get out of here before the fire spreads any closer."

She paused, asking, "What fire?"

"...It's a long story."

* * *

With both of them working at it, it didn't take long to both loot the place _and_ free the prisoners, including a vicious, snarling woman who turned out to be a swordsman wrapped in enough chain to moor a ship.

In the confusion he only noticed the woman had followed them back to his ship after they were already watching the burning town fading into the distance.

Staring at the bleeding, naked woman holding a sword, he clapped a hand to his face and muttered, "... _Davy Jones damn it_." Sighing heavily, he looked up and ordered, "Olivia, take her to the infirmary. Vertara, get her some clothes. Wilde, help me get this ship on course."

Olivia immediately guided the woman towards the infirmary, the swordsman not reacting to his words beyond a faint growl, and Vertara vanished in the direction of the storage rooms.

Wilde followed him up to the helm and asked, "Where are we going?"

" _Away from here._ "


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SITeach gets some practice with a power he'd much rather ignore, also why is his new crewmember so familiar?

"Aside from certain injuries that will probably be healed in a week, maybe less, all she needs is rest and regular meals." Olivia reported, having come to find him an hour after they got the feral swordsman, freshly bathed and clothed, settled in a guest room.

Marshall sighed, rubbing his temples. "Good to know. Any idea who she is beyond pissed off and a swordsman?"

Olivia looked at him sympathetically, shaking her head as she answered. "No sir. Her throat and tongue are intact, but she hasn't spoken a word, just growled and hissed; if she hadn't shaken or nodded her head in response to yes or no questions, I would have thought she didn't understand what I was saying." Pursing her lips, she grudgingly said, "I wouldn't be telling you this if you weren't the captain and thus had a right to know the medical condition of your crewmembers, otherwise it would be considered a severe violation of privacy," which was why she'd made sure he was alone before telling him this, he acknowledged with a nod.

"Right. Any idea how long she was there? Any allergies or preferences I should be aware of when cooking?" He asked, resigned to playing host to the feral swordsman until she recovered. She probably _would_ wind up joining the crew, but he was going to put off acknowledging that for as long as possible because there was only so much he was willing to deal with at once and by Davy Jones he had to draw the line somewhere.

"No and no, though she did indicate a desire for protein and alcohol."

Meat and booze. He could work with that.

* * *

The first couple of days, he had either Olivia or Vertara take the mystery woman her meals, not sure how she'd react to a man showing up outside her door, but on the fourth day the door opened as they were sitting down for lunch and the woman stalked in.

Considering the last time he saw her she was covered in blood and snarling like a wild animal, he had to admit that she looked a lot better. With the blood washed off, he could see that her hair was actually dark green, the color of healthy tree leaves. She was pale, the kind of pale that resulted from a lack of sunlight rather than a natural pigment, and he could see several scars peeking through the places that the clothes she was wearing didn't quite cover. Vertara's clothes fit her rather well, but he noted that they seemed tight around the chest. Olivia had her measurements, so he planned to send the doctor shopping the next time they made port.

Gray eyes darted around, too intent to be called nervous as she moved towards the table. Her knuckles were white where she was gripping the sheath of her sword, but she kept her head up as she sat in the empty chair next to Olivia, eyes fierce and silently daring anyone to say anything.

Marshall took another bite of food and the others understood the wordless signal, carrying on their conversations and eating as though they'd never paused as the woman filled her own plate and dug in. Something about the way she ate had alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind, but he couldn't for the life of him think of why.

...Why did the way she chugged that tankard of booze seem so familiar?

It was right on the tip of tongue, like the title to a song you couldn't quite remember, and the bells rang louder.

* * *

Days before they were due to reach the next island, they were attacked by pirates.

Normally Marshall wouldn't have worried and just let Vertara, Olivia and Wilde handle it, but that plan fell apart almost before he thought it for one reason and one reason only: the captain of the other crew had Conqueror's Haki and _knew how to use it_.

Before he even set foot on deck he felt it, an intense pressure washing over him like the first rumblings of an avalanche barreling towards him. His eyes narrowed as he emerged from the interior of his ship, seeing his three crewmembers kneeling, the feral swordsman a short distance away, all of them sweating and straining like they were fighting against a tremendous weight. A crowd of the other captain's crew surrounded them, jeering and laughing, several of them making obscene gestures as the four were kept pinned and helpless by their captain's haki.

His own footsteps were loud in the sudden silence that descended as he loosed his own haki. For the first time he reached for his Conqueror's Will, flooding both his and the enemy's ship with his sheer _presence_ , causing the **_worms_** mocking his crew to collapse, crumpling to the floor like puppets with their strings cut. Two forces of nature clashed, fighting for dominance as one Conqueror's eyes met the other's.

Sweat poured down the other captain's face, while Marshall showed no signs of strain, the other captain folding first, man and haki buckling as Marshall's will overwhelmed him. With the rest of his crew unconscious, there was no one to help the other captain as Marshall finished the fight their haki had started. Grunting and flicking the blood off his fist, he turned and asked, "you guys good to finish up here? I need to make sure those cannonballs didn't do any damage."

Vertara nodded shakily, already on her feet as she said, "yeah, we're good. Just do whatever you need to, Captain."

Olivia and Wilde nodded, the feral swordsman already moving to finish off the enemy within reach.

Nodding sharply, he left to make sure the _Coddiwomple_ was okay.

("It was pure darkness," Vertara murmured after their captain had left, absently digging her claws into a woman's throat as she continued, "like, this gigantic, raging abyss seeking to devour everything and it could eat us and not even _notice_ because we're so far beneath it's attention we might as well not even exist..."

Face pale, Wilde nodded, adding, "it felt like death, like shadows reaching out from the underworld to swallow any hint of light, smothering it until the only thing left is despair." Shuddering at the memory of that feeling, the icy fear that had gripped his heart barely starting to thaw as he searched pockets and slit throats.

Untying the ropes the pirates had used to board, Olivia chimed in, "that other guy's presence just felt like something heavy pressing on my back and pushing me down. It was straightforward, weight can be lifted after all. Compared to that, the Captain's was worse. A lot worse."

Unsaid but nonetheless known was that the Captain was worse for them, to protect them.

Off to the side, beneath the anger and snarling the swordsman had what could only be called a pensive look on her face.)

* * *

He'd done it. He'd used Conqueror's Haki and didn't knock out his own crew along with the enemies, which as far as he knew was a major accomplishment. It took training to be able to direct the third kind of haki to effect only certain people, but while the application was rough he knew he was on the right track because of the simple fact that while they clearly felt it, _his crew was still conscious_.

He would have to apologize later, he thought, sighing as he carefully inspected the ship's rudder. He didn't know how his haki felt, but from what he remembered of other Conquerors, it probably hadn't been a fun experience.

The ship turned out to be undamaged, and wow, those shipwrights on Olympios hadn't been kidding when they talked about Angel Wood being some of the best. It survived New World storms without a scratch, so what were a few measly cannonballs? Patting the wall near the dial control room in thanks, he headed towards the kitchen, hearing the wood creaking as though saying ' _you're welcome_ '.

* * *

He finished looting the pirate ship as the other four took a break and helped themselves to the food he'd prepared. All of the bodies had been thrown overboard and the deck was freshly cleaned, not a speck of blood to be found, and yeah, he definitely had to do something nice for them now.

Vertara had put everything they'd taken from the bodies in sacks, the plunder coming up to three bags of assorted valuables, which just left the ship itself. It was a decent enough vessel, showing little damage from sailing in the New World, so perhaps it'd be worth it to tow it to port and sell it? Hand cupping his chin, he hummed in thought. The Coddi could do it easily, so it came down to whether the reward would be worth the time and effort.

Finally deciding to go for it, he finished going through the captain's quarters and headed back to his own ship to figure out how to tie the two vessels together.

* * *

Hooking the last of the chains to the pirate ship (flag helpfully removed), he became aware of a presence approaching from behind him. Tugging once to be sure everything was secure, he called out, "everything okay?"

Of course he knew who was lurking around the corner, so he wasn't surprised when the feral swordsman came into few, growling lowly. Eyeing him cautiously, she seemed to come to a resolution as he looked on, abruptly holding out her sword towards him as though offering the blade.

He swore that her grin, teeth bared in challenge, looked so damn _familiar_. Looking at the offered sword, he returned her grin with equal ferocity. "I take it you're sticking around for awhile, then?"

She nodded.

"Then you better know how to use that sword, because I can guarantee you're going to need it." He told her, snorting when he saw the _interested_ light in her eyes, coarse green strands falling across her forehead and _that's_ when it clicked.

Green hair, darker than the person he was thinking of but _green_ , and a _swordsman_.

He couldn't help it; he burst out laughing.

* * *

"Right, Feral here is our new crewmate, so you guys get her caught up on everything I taught you, haki and such, while I organize the loot and get us pointed in the right direction." He announced, chuckling at the dumbfounded looks on Vertara, Wilde and Olivia's faces.

"Feral?" Vertara asked curiously.

Marshall shrugged. "It's as good a name as any, and she seems to like it."

"I guess it'll work until she tells us her actual name?" Wilde voiced.

Olivia nodded, "I'll put it in her medical file," she assured.

The newly named Feral bared her teeth in a grin, and he was amused to see both Wilde and Olivia gulp. Vertara bared her teeth right back. He could already tell the two women would get along, he snorted. He strolled from the room, calling out, "have fun!"

"Wait a minute-!"

The door shut, cutting Wilde off mid-sentence, and he chuckled as he headed towards the temporary storage place for their latest loot. Surveying the disorganized state of the room, pretty much everything tossed into a pile in the center, he got to work.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If SITeach is going to be in charge of this floating madhouse, then so help him he would be the head loon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Has recently discovered mobile games*...please...send help...X.x

Marshall looked at the frozen tableau in front of him, arms crossed and one foot idly tapping, then looked up in exasperation as he asked, "So, who wants to tell me what the hell is going on?"

Both Wilde and Vertara, dressed in frilly, sparkling lingerie were frozen, not moving from their positions of standing on one leg, both hands in the air, the thief looking mortified. Lounging on the couch in her own garb of a feathered robe the color of fire and nothing else and looking as relaxed as he'd ever seen her, Feral let out an amused growl. In full ringmaster regalia and holding a scepter, Olivia looked both embarrassed and beyond pleased with herself.

"You know what, I don't want to know," he decided, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers and sighing. "Just...clean this up," he finished lamely, gesturing to the room covered in glitter, streamers and floral paper hearts.

He promptly turned and left the room, shaking his head at the peals of laughter behind him, a reluctant smile on his face.

("Okay, I give up, what _were_ you doing?" He asked Vertara later, and the cannibal shrugged.

"Oh, I was teaching Wilde a traditional dance from my old tribe. It's usually performed naked, but he insisted on covering up."

"...Makes sense.")

* * *

"So, would you mind explaining _why_ you felt the need to kidnap the tiger?" He asked seriously, looking at his unrepentant crew clustered around the large cat.

"Did you see the conditions he was being kept in? It was inhumane!" Vertara cried.

"...He was literally a pet in the Royal Harem." He deadpanned.

"Exactly." Olivia nodded.

Leaning against Feral's side, the tiger looked completely unbothered by the situation, the swordsman practically purring in response. That basically made his decision for him, and he thought longingly of throwing his idiots overboard as he ordered, "teach him to go between the railing or he's getting added to the emergency food supplies."

His four crewmembers nodded vigorously. They knew he wasn't joking.

* * *

He looked at Olivia, looked around, then looked at the sky, begging for patience as he said slowly, "let me get this straight: you didn't find the supplies you needed in this town, so you went to the town on the other side of the island, which the wizened old man specifically told you _not_ to do, wound up getting chased by a cult of crazed ghost-worshippers, eventually discovered their secret lair and then their hidden altar," he paused to take a breath, then continued, "encountered an _actual ghost_ , who led you to the secret treasure hidden inside a booby-trapped tomb, where you fought the leader of the cult and wound up calling on the spirits of the people the cult killed who then chased the leader into a pit of flesh-eating beetles where he died in screaming agony, so you grabbed all the treasure and ran out of there as the freed spirits went to take revenge on the rest of the cult, thus freeing the first town from being terrorized by said cult. And that's how you were named High Priestess."

Olivia nodded, "that about sums it up," she agreed.

He stared, because _why_ had he ever thought Olivia was the sane one?

* * *

"You only joined the crew a week ago." He stated. " _How_."

The tiger, named Maja Trax after a long argument amongst his crew that at least three islands will have nightmares of, looked smug.

* * *

Looking at the bodies strewn about the temple floor in various states of dismemberment, Marshall sighed and glanced at Feral, saying blandly, "you really didn't like Wilde getting taken as a bride for some kind of bunny god, did you?"

He took the angry scowl and growl she sent him as confirmation.

Seeing some of the paraphernalia scattered around the 'bridal chamber' and the outfit, and he used the term loosely, the priests had dressed the thief in, he thought Feral's reaction was pretty reasonable.

Alright then.

* * *

" _So I hear you and your crew are having fun, bro!_ " Rouge's gleeful voice said, coming from an equally amused Chuckles.

"Don't even start, not after what I heard you pulled on Everfrost." Marshall said warningly, scowling when Rouge busted out laughing. "How do you know what we're doing, anyway? I don't think we have bounties."

Which was frankly a miracle, considering the chaos his crew tended to leave in their wake, through no fault of his own, thank you very much! Things just...tended to happen around him and what was he supposed to do? _Let_ the jerk abducting people to feed to a giant ferret keep doing it? Not a chance.

" _Nah, thanks to Daisy's Fruit she can talk to birds, and with all the craziness surrounding your crew, well, they talk._ " Rouge shared, pausing before whistling, " _Damn bro, I gotta step up my game if even half the things Daisy said the birds are talking about are true!_ "

Warring with himself for a moment, he finally sighed and admitted ruefully, "the reality is probably worse." He let Rouge have her laugh before changing the subject, raising an eyebrow and asking slyly, "So how are things with you and Roger?"

Huh, would you look at that, he eyed the now bright red snail, the blush came through really clearly.

* * *

(The day he came to the conclusion that even his ship was getting in on the insanity was the day he washed his hands of it all. If he was going to be in charge of a floating madhouse then by Davy Jones, he would be the head loon!)

* * *

Standing on the deck of the _Coddiwomple_ and watching as the island that had thought it would be a good idea to poison them went up flames, they all shuddered, listening to their captain's mad cackle mingling with screams of sheer terror from the islanders. The fact that the citizens of the island made a habit of poisoning visitors during certain holidays, as their newest crewmate told them, had probably helped to set off their captain's rampage, Wilde muttered.

The rest of them agreed, watching with wide eyes as the castle overlooking the island fell in on itself with a thunderous crash. The young boy their captain had brought back to the ship and tossed at Vertara before starting his spree simply looked fascinated, eyes filled with wonder as the flames devoured his former home.

Exchanging looks, they all agreed that their captain was the maddest one of all when he cut loose...and damned if it wasn't amazing to watch!

Grinning widely, Feral silently offered her crewmates popcorn from the bowl in her arms, prompting another exchange of glances before they each grabbed a handful, even the tiger.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the inevitable happens and imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Is glaring at approaching plot bunnies* Back! Back I say! *Holds them off with a chair and cracks whip*

Everyone was bound to run out of luck at some point, and as he glanced at the stack of papers sitting next to the sink as he finished shaving, it looked like it was finally his turn.

A familiar News Coo had dropped off the bounty posters - and _only_ the bounty posters - just as he'd been finishing up his turn on night watch. After seeing Vertara's face on the top page, he'd given the bird some fish and an extra five thousand Beri as thanks, gratefully nodding at the bird before the albatross flew off. He'd put off immediately seeing what the damage was in favor of getting some shut-eye, but he couldn't avoid it forever.

The sheaf of wanted posters almost seemed to mock him as he rinsed and put away his razor, fully aware that he was stalling and not giving a damn. Patting his face dry, he sighed. Time to face the music, he thought, heading back into his room to look through the bounties.

First in the pile, the image of 'Man-Eater' Vertara grinned up at him, fangs bared and dripping blood, the lower half of her face and down to her shoulders already covered in red. Her beaded necklace was partially shown, but the picture cut off at her collarbone (which was good, because he thought she might have lost her top at some point before it was taken). Wanted for murder, arson and cannibalism and worth fifty million Beri, not bad.

Next was 'Joker's' Wilde. The brat's picture showed him _posing_ , crouched on a wall mid-escape, head turned so that the photographer got a good shot of his face, smirk clearly visible. Was the kid part peacock or something? Marshall lamented, shaking his head. Wanted for theft and worth sixty million Beri simply due to the value of what he stole.

'Black Orchid' Olivia was an interesting one; worth twenty million Beri and apparently wanted for assault and...grave-robbing? He paused, a bit confused by the grave-robbing charge until he remembered oh yeah, the thing on Melinoe Island. Did it still count as grave-robbing if the owners of the grave said it was okay to take the stuff? He wondered. Shaking his head, he looked back at the bounty picture and snorted, because the image showed her in full High Priestess mode standing in front of several dead trees, fog flowing around her feet, a haughty look on her face. Dressed in a long sleeved black dress with a deep V in the front reaching almost to her navel and a long slit in the right side up to mid-thigh, both gaps bridged by a spiderweb design of almost glowing violet thread, she looked like a dark queen deigning to look upon unworthy peasants.

'Slaughter Sword' Feral was worth forty million Beri. For mass murder. A moment's pause and he admitted that yeah, that fit. Her picture was a side view of her face contorted in an expression of pure rage, several strands of dark green hair flying across her face as the photographer caught her mid-turn.

Even Trax had a bounty, though it was only ten thousand and he was listed as Feral's pet.

Flipping through the pages to search for a particular name, he paused when he got to the end before going through them again, this time more slowly.

Nothing.

Mildly surprised not to see the name he'd been expecting, he lowered the pages and stared blankly at the wall. After a moment, he blinked and said, "Huh." Feeling like he'd just dodged a bullet, he went to find the rest of his crew.

* * *

Stepping out onto the deck in time to hear Vertara summarizing some of their recent adventures for the kid (Rune something?) he'd picked up right before his latest rampage, he announced, "right, got a surprise for you lot!" Waving the papers he'd brought with him for emphasis. He handed the bundle to a curious Wilde who quickly spread them out on the deck, stepping back and crossing his arms as the others gathered around the thief.

Happy exclamations and sour complaints rang out, Wilde throwing his hands up with a jubilant shout while Vertara grumbled that she should have been worth more. Trax chuffed as though saying, 'what are you complaining about?', feline face disgruntled at the low number beneath his picture. Marshall inwardly snorted because compared to Chopper's bounty in the future the tiger's was downright decent.

It was Olivia who noticed it first.

"Captain, where's your poster?" The doctor asked, mildly confused as she searched the pieces of paper for his name.

"Don't have one." He answered bluntly, shrugging at his crew's incredulous looks.

"You're joking!" Wilde blurted out, joining the others in gaping when he shook his head and assured them that no, he really didn't have one. Joining Olivia in her search, after five minutes Wilde said, more than a little dumbfounded, "guys, he really doesn't have one."

Vertara was the one who asked, "why doesn't Captain have one? He's Captain!"

Feral growled, sounding reluctant, and Olivia snapped her fingers, nodding in agreement, "Captain doesn't usually leave survivors, and even when he doesn't kill everyone, a lot of details can get lost in the chaos so no one could say for sure _he_ was responsible."

"Right, not many people live after seeing captain doing something wrong and those that do are so grateful captain killed the other people that they'd never turn him in." Wilde nodded, Marshall sending the thief a distinctly unimpressed look as the others made noises of agreement, the new kid included.

Why had he brought the kid with them again?...oh yeah, the whole warning him about the plot to kill his crew thing, right, right, now he remembered. Sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, he bit out. "Haki training. _Now_." Seeing the small smile on the new kid's face, Marshall chuckled evilly, "don't relax just yet kid, you get to join in!"

Trepidation flashed across Rune's face, especially when he noticed the sympathetic looks the older members of the crew were sending him.

_What had he gotten himself into...?_

* * *

Rune was ten years old, the boy told him later that night as Marshall made himself comfortable for first watch, the kid slipping out of the shadows like a ghost to settle in next to him.

Dark eyes, dark hair and pale skin, the boy reminded him a lot of Rouge's musician Tabitha. The kid barely reached his knees but exuded the kind of chilly aura that made him think of looking into an open grave. The kind of creeping dread that said death was coming, and coming for _you_. A bit of practice and how short the kid was wouldn't matter, if he could use that to keep an opponent still long enough to land a decisive blow.

The story the kid told him a quiet, halting voice was about what he expected, but that didn't mean he liked being right.

Born to parents who believed in using poison to treat poison, Rune grew up learning about toxins both natural and man-made. He learned quickly, the island he lived on was rife with poisoners so there was no shortage of learning opportunities due to accident or design. His parents were the best at working with poison, surpassing even the royal family, but they sought knowledge not to harm others but to heal them; the cause may also be the cure, they told Rune, poison treated with poison. It was only when they saved the life of the youngest princess, unknowingly getting involved in a dispute for the throne, that things began to go wrong.

A dark night, a powerful paralytic slipped into food and a single candle was all it took for his parents to die. The only reason he survived was because he was playing around with a muscle relaxant while they ate, Rune whispered, quietly as though confessing to a great sin. Continuing to live after his parents burned alive, perhaps he thought it was.

 _Treat poison with poison_.

Repeating the philosophy until it was engraved in his heart, Rune lived for three years searching for a way to get revenge. The royal family were the poison, and he needed one stronger. He watched as countless ships, pirate, marine and otherwise docked at the island, unknowing of the danger. The lucky ones arrived between festivals and departed none the wiser. Most of them didn't. And then he saw a strange white and purple ship dock, and for the first time in years felt hope as he watched the captain decline the 'welcome' gifts.

The rest of the crew followed his lead, and Rune made his choice.

"You are the greatest poison of all," Rune told him, and Marshall understood the compliment for what it was.

* * *

At some point when he wasn't paying attention, his crew had started coating their hair with Armament, and what was worse was that they even had the tiger doing it. He didn't even know animals could learn haki!

Staring at the haki-dark tiger, he deadpanned, "what are you supposed to be, a panther?"

Trax snorted and flicked his tail. ' _P_ _lease, they have nothing on me,_ ', his smug look said. Marshall was forced to admit that yes, Trax could probably kick most panther's asses, but still.

"No one likes a braggart." He told the large cat, eye twitching when the feline responded with a scoff. It was gratifying when the tiger suddenly froze as if just then realizing what he'd done. Now that he knew animals could learn haki without a Devil Fruit that gave him an idea..."How about some one-on-one training then?" He _suggested_ , smiling cheerfully and delighting in the tiger's terrified whimper.

Good to know his training sessions were memorable, he thought in amusement, eyeing the cowering predator.

* * *

"Captain, what are you doing?"

Not looking up from where he was tying the sails up, he answered Wilde's question. "Tying the sails up."

"Why?"

"You hear that rumbling sound?" Hearing the affirmative noise from the thief, he continued, "that would be the Knock-Up Stream beneath us." Ignoring the curious ' _the what?_ ' he continued, "since I don't want to have to replace the sails, I'm tying them out of the way so they aren't too badly damaged." Giving the knot he was working on one final tug to make sure it was secure, he called down, "Vertara, you ready on the Dial control panel?!"

"Yes!"

"Good! Make sure not to hit the button until I say so!"

Wilde cut in, Olivia next to him looking concerned as the teen demanded to know what was going on, a panicked look on his face.

A manic grin on his face, Marshall announced, the sea beginning to swell beneath the ship, "brace yourselves for the ride of your lives! _We're going to a Sky Island_!" Before his crew could do more than grab hold of the nearest sturdy object, the Stream let loose with a thunderous roar, catapulting the Coddi straight up. As the Coddi rose above the clouds, he bellowed. "Now!"

The Jet Dials switched on, lifting them even higher. There wasn't a sea of clouds nearby, but why not have some fun when the Coddi could fly? His crew gradually calmed down when the ship didn't start plummeting towards the sea, looking around in amazement as Coddi sailed through the sky. When the White Sea once more stretched out before him, Marshall threw his head back and laughed.

" _Zehahaha!_ "

* * *

The Sky Island they eventually landed at was called Valhallia and populated by the Valkira, a predominantly female race ruled by King Wodin.

A war-loving people, the Valkira respected strength, which would normally be okay except they landed right as Wodin's brother Rankor decided to rebel against his brother and both sides thought they were helping the other. What followed was pure chaos, so it was understandable that something like the date slipped his mind.

It was as he was punching Rankor in the face that he remembered that oh yeah, today was his birthday.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sky Islands have the same taste in gifts. Also, some training which SITeach is less than happy about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to me!

The victory party lasted for a week after the uprising was dealt with.

During the party several Valkira told him about the monsters that lived on various islands around Valhallia that their warriors fought to test their strength. No one had ever managed to beat all of them, the Valkira Commander Fraja told him, not even King Wodin, so halfway through the celebration Marshall decided hey, why not.

Grabbing a map and the waver he'd bought on Olympios, he set out.

The following week he fought, in order: a wolf the size of a warship, a giant eagle that could probably pick up the _Coddiwomple_ with room to spare, a snake twice the size Nula would be on Skypeia and five times as venomous, a strange blue giant, another giant who was literally on fire, a horse that ate a Spider-Spider Fruit, a half-giant who'd eaten a Lizard-Lizard Fruit, and an honest-to-Davy Jones _dragon_.

He beat them up but otherwise let them be because the Valkira had this whole thing going and he wasn't going to ruin that. Back at the party the Valkira had told him that it was a tradition to bring back proof of his victory so he wound up hauling a bunch of random junk from one island to the next as he worked his way down the list.

(He did give serious thought to taking some of the dragon's treasure, but the Coddi was getting a bit full so he just took some seeds from some flowers growing in the dragon's cave as a souvenir. The dragon actually looked _approving_ , which he thought was odd.)

It was only as he was making his way back to Valhallia laden with trophies that he realized that oh yeah, he hadn't told his crew where he was going had he? The cheers that erupted from the dock when he came into view and the way half the people fell to their knees to start thanking the gods confirmed it.

He only found out later that everyone had been too drunk to remember him leaving, so when his crew woke up after the party they thought he'd vanished and proceeded to freak out.

(He had the utmost respect for Wodin for handling the resulting chaos as well as he had.)

* * *

"You...beat all of them?"

King Wodin was visibly shaken, staring in stunned awe at the array of objects spread out on one of the tables in the mead hall.

There's a tuft of wolf hair the size of an anchor and a feather as long as the Coddi's mast, and that was just the start. After that was a snake scale big enough for him to use as a full-body shield, one of the icicles that the blue giant had been using as a beard, a burnt piece of rock that the flaming giant threw up after one too many punches to the stomach, and two horseshoes. Finally there was the tail he'd ripped off the lizard man (which he was pretty sure would grow back, as the half-giant himself didn't seem overly concerned) and the seeds he took from the dragon's cave.

Marshall barely had time to nod before his crew rushed over, all of them clustered around him and trying to talk at the same time.

" _What the hell?!_ "

" _Are you okay?_ "

" _What took you so long?_ "

" _Tell us about the fights!_ "

" _Hiss/Grrrr!_ "

Laughing at the worried/curious/eager/irritated looks on his crew's faces, he summarized how he'd heard about the monsters during the party and decided to give it a try, following up with brief descriptions of the battles and (in deference to Wilde's frazzled nerves) ending with an apology for not making sure one of them was sober enough to remember him leaving. "All in all, I had a pretty good time," he finished, pausing before he asked, "how about you guys? You have fun while I was gone?"

His crew looked at each awkwardly, then turned back to him and shrugged in unison, trying to play it off as they made so-so motions. He snorted and gave them a skeptical look because yeah, he believed that.

They had the grace to look sheepish.

When Wodin snapped out of his shock, he promptly clapped his hands, a wide grin on his face as he laughed. "Excellent! I now worry if the prize we planned to bestow isn't enough for such a powerful warrior!"

Wodin's wife Fryga piped up, voice warm with amusement, "indeed, we might have need to find a greater reward."

"...Wait, what prize?"

* * *

Looking up at the 'prize' Wodin mentioned, Marshall was dumbfounded.

At a loss for words, he could only stare, waiting for his mind to register what his eyes were telling him. Around him his crew made appreciative noises, hearing the whispers of awe as if from underwater.

One of the shipwrights heard the muttering and came over (he thought it might have been Beldir, one of Wodin's kids). Laughing at the sounds of amazement, the Valhallian bragged, "ain't it a beauty? One of my best work, if I do say so myself!"

"She looks so different!" Vertara exclaimed, echoed by the rest of his crew while he stood there like a statue, still gaping at Wodin's idea of a reward.

It was obviously the _Coddiwomple_ , but very different from how he remembered his ship looking when he left a week ago. The gleaming white hull was the same, as was the dark purple paint on the trim, but everything else...for one thing, he didn't remember the Coddi being so _big_. Instead of the caravel-sized ship he was used to, the Coddi was now half the size of the Moby Dick and looked like a proper warship. Instead of looking ridiculous, the Coddi gave off an aura of power and intimidation, like a giant bird of prey watching you from on high.

"I gotta say, those shipwrights on Olympios knew what they were doing," Beldir admitted. "That Dial system is ingenious - I didn't need to change anything at all, just expand it."

"I can't wait to see what it looks like inside!" Wilde grinned, bouncing with glee as Trax chuffed beside the thief, the tiger swishing his tail eagerly as he looked speculatively at the various railings. Olivia's hands rubbed together, the doctor obviously anticipating getting a look at her infirmary, Rune standing beside her looking just as interested. Feral was eyeing the space on the deck, perfect for practicing her swordsmanship, and Vertara was grilling the shipwright about the inside renovations.

Like on Olympios, the Valhallian shipwrights had transferred their quarters completely intact along with the storeroom.

"Angel Tree Wood is like a stone knife next to a steel battleaxe when compared to the wood of our Heaven Tree, but it would be a crime to discard such craftsmanship, so we incorporated a lot of the original rooms, contents untouched, into the new design." Beldir explained.

(Later he would laugh that the Valhallians thought that he'd gotten the whole ship from the Olympiosans, but right now he was too busy trying to get his brain to work.)

As if from a distance, he heard himself ask, tone filled in confusion, "why do Sky Islanders insist on giving me ships?"

* * *

In the end there was no use arguing; what was done was done. The Valhallians had already upgraded the Coddi, and honestly? Watching his crew's reactions as they explored the new interior of the ship, he wouldn't have done anything even if he could. He repainted the Coddiwomple's name on the side, the Valhallians happily supplying the paint.

He _may_ have gone a little overboard during his shopping spree in the three days before he left, but Sky Island! Some of his best shopping experiences were on Sky Islands, and Valhallia proved no exception. Trading some of the Island's Blood gems from Vertara's home island netted him plenty of the local currency, and he combed through all of the shops and stalls on the island four times and spent all of it (plus a jar of dirt he kept around for just such an occasion) before he was satisfied.

And thanks to the Valhallia shipwrights, he had plenty of room to put his new purchases.

* * *

Two days after they left Valhallia and returned to the blue sea, his crew came to him with a request that he was less than enthusiastic about.

"You want me to...what?" Marshall stared.

"Use Conqueror's Haki on us," Vertara repeated. "When that other guy used it, none of us were able to move a muscle and you had to save us."

"Which I didn't mind," he pointed out.

"But we did." Wilde answered. "We were pinned like rats in a trap. More than useless, we were a _burden_."

Olivia picked up the thread, "if that other captain had been just a bit stronger, or if one of his crew had just been faking it, you might have been injured while defending us."

Feral growled, the noise carrying an obvious tone of agreement.

"Taking a small amount of poison can help build a resistance to a larger dose," Rune supplied, having been told about the incident they were talking about and wanting to be helpful.

He really didn't have much of a choice, did he? Marshall sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. He did need the practice, but it didn't feel right, using Conqueror's Haki on his own crew. "The minute I decide you can't take any more, I'm stopping," he warned, pointedly ignoring the exchange of high-fives and pleased looks.

As much as he loved them, sometimes his crew were _idiots_ , and he was definitely saying he told them so when this blew up in their faces.

* * *

" _ **Kneel.**_ "

Pressed down by the overwhelming feeling of _darkness_ , Vertara panted, on her hands and knees and struggling to breathe through the pressure. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, tears forming in her eyes as she tried to draw air into her lungs. The others around her were in much the same condition, Rune and Trax laying flat on their bellies from the weight of the order.

Her captain's word, laced with Conqueror's Haki, rang in her ears like a death knell, reverberating through her soul. The looming abyss of her captain's presence threatening to swallow her whole, for the first time in her life, she felt afraid of the dark.

" _ **Breathe.**_ "

Choking on the rush of air, Wilde obeyed the command. Every thought was focused on the sheer terror threatening to consume him, heart pounding as he tried to fight through the fear. All he could see was darkness; surrounded by the abyss of his captain's haki, his whole body trembled.

He knew that he and the others had asked for this, but having the force of his captain's haki focused on them instead of an enemy was absolutely terrifying.

From beside him he could hear both Feral and Trax snarling in panic, the swordsman having managed to stay on one knee but sweating heavily from the effort. The look in her eyes matched her name, her captain's order keeping her locked in place. Olivia was shaking like she was in a blizzard on a Winter Island, shivering and panting, her hair and skin soaked with sweat. Rune was on his stomach on her other side, eyes wide and nearly catatonic.

(Later, Rune would tell her that he thought the only reason he kept breathing through the feeling of _darkness_ was because his captain had told him to.)

* * *

"That's enough." Marshall spoke, abruptly cutting off the flow of haki when both Wilde and Trax started wheezing. All of his crew collapsed, taking deep gulps of air and okay, he was kind of worried about that. A quick Shave and he returned with glasses of water for all of them, which he made sure they drank.

"You all alright?" He asked, gently rubbing Vertara's back as she caught her breath.

"Ye-yeah, I think we're okay...that was _intense_." Wilde gasped out, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Feral and Olivia nodded in agreement, Trax quietly chuffing, but it took Rune longer to recover before he voiced his assent.

"Right, that's all for the day," Marshall declared.

No one argued.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yeah. Don't kill me? *Runs and hides from the pitchforks and torches*

All good things must come to an end, a lesson Marshall had learned the hard way.

While he wouldn't have said things had been going smoothly for him and his crew, the problems they'd encountered had been well within their abilities to solve. What his crew couldn't handle, he did, and though that might have kept them alive, it deprived them of a crucial piece of knowledge: the feeling of suffering a crushing defeat. It was a feeling he knew well, having felt it for the first time back when the Sun Rats destroyed his home, and he never forgot it, that feeling of helplessness and despair.

His crew was different; every obstacle they encountered they were able to overcome, if not through their individual strength than through teamwork. It wouldn't work forever, he'd cautioned them, but when something kept working, it was hard to think that it would suddenly fail. He upped their training in response, his instincts roaring in the back of his mind that _something_ was coming. He worked with them all, training them one-on-one and in groups, hoping it would be enough even as he had the sinking feeling that it wouldn't be.

All he could do was teach them enough to keep them alive, his instincts growled. He didn't cut himself any slack, training to the brink of exhaustion right alongside them, which was likely one of the only reasons they didn't mutiny.

Every night he ran through his routine on autopilot, unconscious before his head hit the pillow. Even in his dreams, the feeling of looming danger persisted and he woke up more determined than ever to up his own and the crew's training, pushing them further than before. He _needed_ to make sure they all survived, he wouldn't accept anything less.

Wilde was the one who'd come the closest back on Enyo, but even then Marshall was sure the feeling hadn't quite sunk in. He didn't know about Feral, but it was possible that the swordsman had experienced it, the feeling of losing so completely that the only thing you could do was pray to Davy Jones that you live and thank the seas if you do.

When the other shoe dropped, he wasn't surprised. Terrified yes, but not surprised.

It just figured that it would be one of an Emperor's crew who would teach them that lesson.

* * *

The battlefield was a sea of blood and flames. Rising smoke stung his eyes, the scent of blood and burned flesh choking him. Every breath he takes is edged in agony, courtesy of his broken ribs. The taste of iron on the back of his tongue is made worse by the fact that a great deal of it _belonged to his crew_.

It had happened in an instant; they had landed on an island to take a rest, but it turned out someone else had the same thought. The encounter likely wouldn't have been so bad if the other party, the other _pirate_ , hadn't been Charlotte Compote, one of Big Mom's daughters. She hardly looked anything like she would in the future, tall and toned and dressed in a shirt and pants instead of a dress with not a fruit hat to be seen, but the personality...that he recognized. She was young but strong. Before his crew could do more than tense they were down, blood flowing from various wounds.

Vertara was snarling, fangs bared and bloody foam dripping from her mouth as she struggled to push herself up with her unbroken arm, eyes red and wild. Feral was beside her, face a mask of fury as she held her sword in one hand and the long cut in her stomach with the other, the only thing keeping her insides where they belonged. Olivia was unconscious, the deep slice on her shoulder pouring blood despite the way Wilde was attempting to put pressure on it, his breath wheezy and each cough leaving drops of blood on his lips, his broken leg stretched out behind him. Trax's left eye was a mess of blood, the tiger sporting a gash along his side that dyed his fur a deeper red. Rune had fallen unconscious in shock, a hole in his hand like someone had driven a knife through the back of it and a long, curling scratch that went from his right shoulder down to his left hip and bled sluggishly.

The only reason he escaped with only broken ribs was because he got his haki up in time.

"So you're still alive?"

He looked at the blue-haired woman, his eyes meeting hers, and he bared his teeth in a silent threat, his haki coiling through the air to clash with hers as he responded.

" _Yes, I am._ "

* * *

The following fight was quick and brutal, if it could even be called a fight.

All he could say was he survived and managed to carry his crew back to the _Coddiwomple_ where he tore through the infirmary, setting up IVs and doing everything he could to keep them alive. He set bones, staunched bleeding, stitched wounds...for eight frantic days he tended to them, not daring to close his eyes in case they took a turn for the worse and barely pausing to grab something he didn't need to cook to eat.

Days of no sleep eventually caught up to him, but he refused to rest until he was sure his crew was out of danger.

It was only when their condition had improved that he allowed himself to relax, slumping back in the chair he'd all but lived in for the last week. As he did so, a wave of dizziness hit him and he remembered that oh yeah, he had been bleeding pretty heavily, hadn't he?

A bit of rest couldn't hurt, he decided, the last of the tension draining from his muscles. Eyes drifting closed, he made himself comfortable and allowed himself to drift off. His last thought before falling asleep was that between the marks from the battle and the bloodstains, his coat was probably a total loss.

(Much later, after getting some much needed rest and waking up in an infirmary bed to his crew's concerned faces, Vertara presented him with a coat free of stains, the garment looking as good as new.

"My people know a thing or two about getting blood out of fabric," she said quietly, and if her smile was a bit shaky, no one mentioned it.

He was also cleanshaven, he discovered when he rubbed a hand over his chin, which was odd because he _knew_ he hadn't shaved since before the battle. He mentioned that over dinner and after a brief silence, Rune confessed, "I wasn't very good at it, but all of us know how particular you are about shaving, so I just...decided to help, since you couldn't do it yourself."

Touched, the only thing Marshall could say to that was, "thank you.")

* * *

(Some time later, Wilde mentioned how impressive it was that he had managed to get the Coddi out to sea between taking care of them and his own injuries, and it dawned on him that the Coddi had to have moved herself because he hadn't.)

* * *

It took some time, but his crew made a full recovery, none the worse for wear save for a few new scars. Trax had it the toughest; the tiger was now blind in his left eye and had to move carefully until he adjusted to the change. Feral helped with that, training with the tiger until his movements were as smooth or smoother than they'd been before, no matter how much Olivia snapped that _they weren't recovered yet, damn it_!

A big change that came after their defeat was that there was no more complaints about his insistence on training.

If anything, he became the one most often calling for them to take a break. One time he even went out on deck during Wilde's watch to find the thief practicing with his powers, the Coddi outlined in motes of light and looking downright unworldly. He wordlessly turned and went back inside.

Vertara told him that she was attempting to gain control over her berserker mode. "My people are much more powerful in that state, but the downside is that after entering it we're unable to tell friend from foe and indiscriminately attack everything around us," she sighed.

"So like the Minks Su-Long form, got it." He nodded. They brainstormed for awhile before he had to go fix lunch, Vertara looking thoughtful.

Rune and Olivia put their heads together, pooling their knowledge of poisons and anatomy. He knew they worked out some kind of training regime, but decided that as long as it worked for them, he didn't want to know.

The one who surprised him the most was Feral; barely a day after Olivia said it was okay for her move around, the swordsman walked up and looked him right in the eyes. "I want you to train me." She growled, knuckles white where they gripped the scabbard of her sword.

He was so thrown by Feral actually _speaking_ that he just stared blankly until she got impatient and repeated her demand, voice rough and gravelly from disuse.

He agreed, but much to her frustration added that it would be later when she'd healed up more because he'd heard Olivia yelling at her that there _would be no training until your guts weren't in danger of falling out, by Davy Jones_!

...Not that he thought his stalling or Olivia's warnings would do any good. If Feral was anything like Zoro, he expected nothing less than finding her passed out in a pool of blood at least three times before she healed up even stronger than before.

It had been a hard lesson, but his crew had needed to learn it.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things return to something close to normal, at least by SITeach's standards, though not without some hiccups along the way.

It took a few months before they all healed up enough to return to something like normal, crew scarred but a great deal wiser from the experience.

Marshall explored the Coddi, becoming familiar with the new layout of the ship after having spent the recent days in either the infirmary, the kitchen or, most recently, his room. The extra space was appreciated, he hummed, since it had been getting a tad challenging to find room for everything as more people joined his crew. Treasure alone had occupied at least half the space in the formerly caravel-sized ship. Which...he really needed to sort through again, come to think of it.

(To his relief, the crates from Vertara's island were tucked away, untouched, at the back of the main treasure room.)

During his exploration, he was pleasantly surprised to find several flower beds filled with the odd reddish soil from the Valhallian dragon's island on top of the cabins. For the seeds he'd brought back, he guessed. He had no idea how to care for plants beyond 'water occasionally', but what the hell, he decided to give planting them a try.

He stumbled upon a combination of a library and study, the shelves rather bare except for some texts about the history of Valhallia and its laws along with its myths. Rubbing his chin, he eyed the space in the shelves speculatively. He'd missed reading, and now that he had a place to put them, he might pick up some books on the next island. See what passed for literature in the New World that wouldn't get him killed for reading it, he thought, snorting in amusement.

The pantries and food storage areas were, in a word, _huge_. Apparently the Valhallians hadn't been so drunk before he left the party that they didn't notice his appetite. Which was good, because him aside, his crew could definitely put away the food after a long day of training. Everything was new, from the counters to the cookware, various state-of-the-art appliances set up for ease of use, most of them utilizing Dials in some way - such as the stove with Heat Dials and the pantry equipped with Cool Dials to keep food fresh. A smaller cabinet stood next to Sky Island refrigerator, and he was delighted to discover that the thing, thanks to some Dials, functioned as an icemaker! This was actually his first time taking a good look around the kitchen; back when he was staying in the infirmary to watch over his wounded crew whenever he got hungry he'd grabbed something fast and didn't linger. Now he whistled softly in awe, because those shipwrights really went above and beyond.

When he knocked on the far wall of the navigation room, it sounded hollow. A few more taps and he determined that there was a fairly big secret compartment. It took a minute to find the switch to open it, but when he pressed it a section of wall slid open soundlessly, revealing racks and shelves filled with bottles of booze. Wine, rum, ale, whiskey, you name it, the compartment had it all. Well that would come in handy, he thought, shaking his head and snorting a laugh as he closed the liquor cabinet.

Chuckling under his breath, he went and checked the flight system. The controls were the same, but the network of Dials they controlled was greatly expanded, just like Baldir said. He nodded in satisfaction, relieved that he didn't need to figure out how to work a whole new system.

He explored below decks, poking around the guest cabins, the empty officers quarters, the bunk rooms, and even the brig (which he had to take a moment to wrap his head around because _they had a brig now_ ). He looked through the treasury, unable to resist straightening it up a little and _wow_ , they really had to do another inventory, didn't they? He thought, staring at a diamond-encrusted bra and panty set and wondering at the practicality of it.

Firmly telling himself that he did not want to know but also making a mental note to assign Wilde to inventory duty, he continued on his tour.

Arriving back on deck after examining the crow's nest, he leaned against the Coddi's mast and smiled. "Hard to believe you started out as that tiny rowboat who came untied that night, isn't it? You've come a long way, girl." Pausing to listen to the unmistakably smug rustling of the sails, his smile widened. "It's thanks to you that I'm alive today, and you've taken great care of both me and crew even before I wanted to admit that I had one, so even if I never say it again...thanks. Thanks for everything."

As he pushed away from the mast and walked off, the sounds of the ship around him sounded warm, and for just a moment he heard the voice of the Coddiwomple loud and clear.

' _You're welcome,_ ' she said.

* * *

(A few months later, he would be forced to admit that _maybe_ forgetting about the seeds after sticking them in the soil hadn't been the brightest idea. Staring at the dark red vines spilling from the top of the cabins where the flower beds were located and winding around the railings, bright red buds forming along their length, he concluded that yeah, that hadn't been the smartest move he'd ever made...)

* * *

Waking up at the sound of the door opening, Marshall didn't react, his haki immediately identifying the intruder. One of his crew, not a threat, came his brain's sleep-slurred conclusion, not moving when Wilde crept up to the side of the bed.

The teen was wearing pajamas, he noted, the detail somehow seeming incredibly important as Wilde crawled under the covers. Marshall felt the thief press himself close to his side, oddly chilled for all that they were near a summer island and it was a fairly warm night, and then he felt the trembling. Wilde's shoulders shook, something cold soaking through his own shirt where the boy's face was pressed against his ribs, and then it clicked.

Letting out a long sigh, he wrapped an arm around the teen, his hand resting against the back of the kid's head. Wilde barely had time to tense before the captain spoke, voice rough with sleep as he said, "It's okay to be scared. You're safe now, so go ahead and cry..."

The teen needed no more encouragement, the little composure he still had shattering like glass as he broke down. Marshall gently pulled the kid closer to his side, silently opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling as the sound of sobs filled the cabin.

When Vertara poked her head in to check on them a few moments later, their eyes met.

' _Everything okay_ _?_ ' her questioning gaze asked.

She relaxed when he gave a slight nod in response to her silent question, and she nodded back, slipping away as quietly as she'd come.

When the tears finally stopped an hour later, an exhausted Wilde falling into much needed slumber, Marshall was wide awake. He already knew he wouldn't be getting any more sleep that night, and so settled in to keep watch.

* * *

The third time he found Olivia passed out in the infirmary, hours away from starvation due to an improperly done Life Return, he put his foot down.

"No more." He told the doctor bluntly, not giving her a chance to argue. "I should have put a stop to it the first time, but I thought you would have learned from your mistakes or at least asked someone to be there in case you needed help. That was my fault, I should have known better." He shook his head, grumbling about doctors being the worst patients before telling her, "no training for a week, minimum, until you get your health back on track and really thought about what you're trying to do because _starvation is not an acceptable side effect_."

"But captain-!"

" _ **No buts.**_ "

* * *

Trax was actually the easiest one to deal with, at least as far as near-death shenanigans went. Maybe it was because he was a tiger, maybe it was just his nature, but after adjusting to his new blind spot he was rather laidback about the whole thing.

"You know, it probably says something about this crew that you're the only one sticking to a steady training regime," he commented.

The big cat chuffed, the leather of his new eyepatch gleaming.

* * *

As it turned out, he was right about Zoro taking after his mother. In the span of two weeks Feral had managed to: reopen her wound no less than ten times, nearly cut her own foot off, and _break her own ribs_. It was that last incident that prompted him step in and interrupt Olivia's latest attempt at scolding her to have a word with the swordsman himself.

Suffice to say, after that Feral was much more inclined to be patient when it came to training.

* * *

"No."

"Captain-"

"No, it's a terrible idea and you aren't doing it."

"But Olivia said," Rune tried to argue, only for Marshall to raise one eyebrow and retort.

"The same Olivia I found nearly starved to death an hour after breakfast because she tried to use a new, untested version of Life Return with no safeguards? She has no leg to stand on when it comes to saying whether something is safe to try or not."

Seeing the rebellious look on the kid's face, he sighed and proposed a compromise, "how about this, you agree not to try anything new without someone there to help in case something goes wrong, and you can - slowly! - work up to trying your idea _as long as the first few steps work!_ " He finished hurriedly upon seeing the eager look in Rune's eyes.

"Don't worry, captain, the theory is sound, and my research says the chance of something going wrong is less than forty percent." Rune informed him in an attempt at reassurance, but really only making him regret giving in even more. Still, he reluctantly smiled as he ruffled the kid's hair.

His voice fond, Marshall chuckled, "Yes, yes, you're my crew's own poison prodigy..."

After the captain walked off, Rune slowly smiled, eyes sharp enough to cut as one hand rose up to cup his chin thoughtfully.

"Poison Prodigy....I like the sound of that."

(When Rune got his bounty almost a year later, Marshall took one look at his epithet and facepalmed because _really_?)

* * *

Putting their heads together, he and Vertara actually made a lot of headway towards helping her control her berserker mode. That was not to say that there weren't some _accidents_ in the course of training.

"I am so sorry, Captain!" Vertara nearly wailed, looking close to tears as she held his coat and watched as Olivia carefully bandaged a - thankfully shallow - bite wound on his leg.

Marshall sighed and patted the air, futilely attempting to calm the cannibal down, "it's fine, it's fine! I know you didn't want to," her reaction when she'd snapped back to normal was proof of that, "and really, I should have known better than to get too close without being sure you were in control. I let the fact you didn't immediately attack mislead me."

Carefully hugging the large coat to her chest, Vertara frowned, "I remember biting you, but it wasn't _me_ biting you. It was like my instincts were in control, even though I knew who you were." She bit her lip, unmindful of her fangs and the blood that welled up from the punctures beyond absently licking them away.

"See? Progress! Now we just need to work on getting you in control instead of the instincts and we'll be good to move things up a notch. Although really, the fact you could bite through my haki is impressive enough on its own."

Vertara giggled, looking surprised at the sound, then turned thoughtful, then pleased as Olivia stepped back and declared she was done. "That was pretty impressive, wasn't it?" she admitted, pleased and laughing when Marshall reached out and pulled her into a hug, not favoring his leg in the slightest as he spun her around.

"That's the spirit!"

* * *

He called Rouge to tell her about the encounter with Compote and how things were going, because how could he not? He'd seen dozens of seabirds flying around since the fight and he didn't know if word had reached his sister via her bird Zoan crewmember yet.

It was a good thing he did; barely had the call connected before Rouge was screaming, " _MARSHALL! Sweet seas, are you okay!? Why did it take you so long to call me?!_ "

Rubbing his ringing ear, Marshall sighed, shoulders slumping as he leaned back in his chair, looking at the worried expression on the snail's face and admitting, "Yeah, we're okay, but it took awhile...I don't know how much you already know, but let me start at the beginning..."


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A return to normalcy....of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Midsummer's Day!

"Hey, you okay?"

Looking up from where he was swirling motes of light around his fingers at Olivia's question, Wilde shrugged half-heartedly. He didn't bother answering, still haunted by the remnants of the nightmare the night before despite knowing that his captain was alive and well and talking to his sister at that very moment. He could see in her eyes that the doctor knew he was far from okay. None of them were okay, hadn't been since the disastrous encounter with Charlotte Compote. He could also see from the stubborn set of her jaw and slight furrowing of her brow that Olivia wasn't going to accept silence as an answer.

Finally, after a long period of silence, he sighed, admitting lowly, "I'll be fine, it's just nightmares, you know?"

And that was the thing. She did know, they _all_ knew. The entire crew knew what he was going through, were experiencing some variation of it themselves, nightmares and all. He didn't think a single one of the would ever forget the sheer terror they'd felt that day in the infirmary, waking up to the smell of blood so thick in the air they could taste it, yet not a single drop stained their bedding. Lines of red covered the floor, leading to each of their beds, new blood trails crossing old like a macabre spiderweb.

In the center of that web was his captain, sitting propped up in a chair and covered in blood.

Wilde couldn't even tell if the man - _his captain!_ \- was still breathing or not. He didn't remember who screamed; a loud, piercing howl broke through the horrified inaction that gripped them and setting off a flurry of motion. Olivia dove from her bed, ripping the sheet that tried to wrap around her foot to shreds and Shaving over to her captain's side.

It was like a tremendous weight lifted off his shoulders when the doctor cried out.

" _He's still bleeding!_ "

They managed to get the captain moved from the chair to a bed, removing his bloodstained clothes in the process. The doctor knew getting them to leave the room was a lost cause and so didn't bother to try, instead banishing them to a corner to stay out of the way as she and Rune went to work.

Hours went by in nerve wracking silence until Olivia stepped back and announced that the captain would be fine, and then the relief was palpable. By unspoken agreement, there was always someone in the room with their captain, most often two or three as Olivia stepped up, determined to prove, if only to herself, that Marshall was right to give her the position of doctor.

(Helping clean the infirmary floor, Wilde had scrubbed at the caked on blood, his teeth clenched as he attacked the stains with fervor, hating himself for being so weak but so grateful that his captain cared enough to go so far to save them. The only other person who'd done that for him was Krystalene, and the realization that somehow Marshall had come to mean just as much struck a chord.

He didn't stop until every inch of the floor was spotless.)

Vertara took command while their captain healed like a proper First Mate, but not one person complained when Marshall woke up, least of all her.

However, physical wounds aside, there were also the less visible injuries to deal with. The defeat had been a wake-up call in more ways than one. He knew the rest of the crew had nightmares (dreams of waking up with their captain _gone gone not breathing gone because he was saving them no no please no_ ) too, and that they dealt with them in their own ways.

He personally threw himself into training his Devil Fruit powers during his watches, conjuring sparkles like fireflies and the mythical will o' wisps that lured sailors to their deaths on foggy nights, the Coddiwomple surrounded by unearthly light.

The nightmare the other night that had him waking up with the urge to go and check to make his captain was still okay, still _alive_ , was nothing new, but giving into the urge was. He'd slipped into the captain's room and of course, _of course_ , the man had woken up the moment the door opened. Instead of sending him away Marshall had let him climb into his bed and curl against him, feel his body heat and hear his heart beating, and it had helped. He didn't know why, but it did.

Looking at the clear beaded bracelet on his wrist, Wilde smiled softly. Glancing up at Olivia, who was now watching him with a thoughtful look, he repeated, still smiling, "I'll be okay."

Her face softening, the doctor smiled back.

Sitting down next to him so she didn't tower over him quite so much, the pair sat in comfortable silence until Olivia spoke, a seemingly idle comment spoken with a knowing gleam in her eyes:

"I noticed that your hair's getting longer."

Before he could respond, she ran a hand through her own growing locks and said idly, "I get it, you know. Cutting hair at sea is such a hassle." On the surface it was a simple observation, but the soft look on her face made him think. As an image of his captain's back, ridiculously long hair swaying behind him appeared in his mind...he realized they were thinking the same thing. He didn't bother to hide his smile as he made a show of reaching up to pinch a strand of dark hair between his fingers, already grown passed his shoulders since he stopped cutting it.

It was nowhere near his captain's impressive mane right now, but maybe one day...

It's said that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and really, there were far worse people he could have chosen to copy.

When Olivia ran a gentle hand through his hair, he leaned into the touch, resting his head on her shoulder as dots of light like swarms of fireflies danced around them.

Yeah, for the first time since the nightmares started, he was okay.

* * *

Feral starting to talk was unexpected but pleasant surprise after the mental whirlpool the crew had went through. Not that the swordsman said much beside asking for seconds and training, in that order, still preferring to say as few words as possible. The woman refused to use her newly revealed voice to fill in any of the gaps in her medical file, much to Olivia's frustration. What Olivia didn't know was that Vertara had seen the swordsman smirking as she walked away from the fuming doctor and so was certain that that was just Feral's version of teasing.

Out of respect the cannibal declined to tell her, sure that the doctor would either figure it out eventually or Feral would enlighten her after she'd had her fun.

It was a relief to see everyone getting back to normal after the ordeal they went through. She hadn't been as worried about Marshall as the others when they found him (Marshall was strong! Stronger than her father, stronger than her whole tribe, stronger than the one who'd laid them all low! There was no way he would die so easily!), but she'd still worried. The smell of blood, usually so tantalising, had instead made her feel ill, knowing that it was Marshall's, her first friend's, blood. Words couldn't begin to describe how glad she was when he was back on his feet.

The rest of the crew hadn't had her certainty, that bone-deep surety that he was going to be fine, so she'd done her best to keep them calm. She did her best to take care of them, but when it came to assuaging their worries nothing was more reassuring than the presence of their captain.

Night-terrors weren't something she had experience with, and she could admit to having no idea what to do about them. There was no spell or potion or trick she could use to guard their dreams; all she could do was prowl the ship at night, peering into rooms to check on her sleeping crewmates. And yet, where she was lost and floundering, Marshall knew exactly what to do, she mused, remembering her friend holding Wilde close in the aftermath of a night-terror.

That was why he was the captain, she thought, smiling as she pulled her thoughts back to the present. She resumed her hunt for the Coddi's resident swordsman, following her haki and the scent of booze, clashing steel and fresh blood (Feral must have torn her stitches again, Olivia wouldn't be pleased ) to where the swordsman was practicing at the rear of the ship.

Judging by the way the sea parted a bit further with every swing, the woman was making progress. The wrappings around her abdomen were spotted with dots of red (yup, definitely tore her stitches), and Vertara clicked her teeth unhappily.

"Olivia won't be happy you tore your stitches again," she said, one hand propped on her hip.

"Don't care." Feral grunted, not even flinching at the redhead's arrival.

"You might not, but Marshall will," she pointed out, "he's already taking it easy with the training you asked for, do you _really_ want to give him an excuse to drag his feet?"

Feral paused at that. Staring thoughtfully out to sea, the pensive look on her face swiftly transformed into a scowl as she growled, " _no_ ," and huffed as she sheathed her sword. Marshall would take every opportunity to make her take it easy and the swordsman knew it.

"What are you working on, anyway?" She asked curiously, adding, "that didn't look like Tempest Slash," because if it was there would have been more wind.

"Enhancing strike speed and power with haki." Feral explained, loathe to waste words when the answer was obvious.

Vertara slowly closed her mouth, having been about to say something else, pausing briefly, "well, at least you're practicing at the back of the ship this time," she settled on.

All she got in response was a grunt.

Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to why she'd originally sought the swordsman out. "So I've got a craving for Sea King - want to help me toss out the nets?"

" _Yes._ "

* * *

Tigers, as a general rule, were mostly solitary creatures.

Sleek, powerful hunters, masters of their domain, what use had they for others outside of breeding season? Anything they wanted to do they could do on their own, and anything else wasn't worth doing, or so his kind tended to think.

Of course, there were exceptions to every rule.

Spending time with this particular pack, this _crew_ , brand new beaded bracelet glinting forest green around one paw, Trax had to admit that he was starting to see the benefits.

* * *

Rune arrived on deck to a mixture of cheers and growls, the noise loud enough to make him look up from the book he was reading. Seeing Vertara, Feral and Wilde fighting to haul one of the fishing nets over the side, he blinked. "What are you-?"

He was interrupted before he finished his question.

_Splash!_

"What in the name of Davy Jones?!"

If his voice was a bit high at the end, well, he didn't think anyone would blame him.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catch as catch can.
> 
> OR
> 
> Why you should(n't) try to catch Sea Kings with a regular fishing net, you might be surprised by what you pull up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 4th of July!

It took almost three hours before he finished explaining the fight with Compote and everything that followed, with Rouge frequently interrupting with exclamations of dismay and furious curses directed at the Charlotte daughter. At one point while his sister was putting her hard-earned vocabulary of foul language to use, he blew a strand of hair out of his eyes and frowned thoughtfully. His bangs were in need of a trim, and since there was no time like the present...

Rouge paused mid-rant when she heard the odd _swish-snip_ sounds coming through her snail. There was a beat of silence, then she asked incredulously, "are you _cutting your hair?_ "

"Just my bangs!" Marshall immediately defended himself, grumbling that he honestly thought Vertara would kill him if he even _thought_ of cutting the waterfall of hair that by that point had grown to hang down to mid-calf. Rouge's chimed agreement earned her a scowl that vanished a second later as they both burst out laughing. Just like that, the sliver of worry coloring Rouge's words vanished, the topic turning to lighter subjects such as what she and her crew had been up to now that she was sure her brother and his crew were really okay.

("So that Andrea woman that was following you around joined your crew?"

"Yup, decided to invite her after the fourth last minute save. Turns out she's a swordsman."

"Huh, might have to introduce her to Feral."

"Bro, please don't kill my swordsman, I just got her."

"I make no promises.")

It turned out that he and his crew weren't the only ones having an exciting time; by the time Rouge was done recounting her adventures, he could barely breathe through his laughter. His cheeks hurt from grinning, and he chuckled breathlessly as he wiped tears from his eyes, he and Rouge saying their goodbyes. After hanging up, both he and Chuckles breathed a sigh of relief. Giving the snail some lettuce, he stood up and stretched before heading towards the deck where his haki was telling him his crew was gathered.

* * *

Walking out of his quarters, Marshall arrived on deck to sound of excited and dumbfounded shouting, his eyes landing on his crew crowded around something on the deck. The press of bodies meant he couldn't see what it was that was causing the commotion until he got closer, but when he did...

"Why is there a fishman caught in that net?" He asked blankly, because there was. A fishman. In one of the Coddi's fishing nets.

A _fishman_.

The irony was almost physically painful, and judging by the fishman's angry swearing the sea denizen wasn't fond of it either. He - and it was a he as far as Marshall could tell - was almost ten feet tall, more lean than bulky but clearly powerful. The fishman also had a powerful set of lungs, he thought with a snort, stepping forward and interrupting the litany of threats with a quick burst of haki and a sharp, "that's enough."

The fishman froze gratifyingly quickly but still glared, round eyes the color of old silver.

Crossing his arms, Marshall raised an eyebrow and asked the air, "is there any particular reason he's still in the net?" Vertara and Wilde immediately moved to untangle the ocean dweller as Feral stepped forward and explained how there came to be a fishman stuck in a net on deck in the first place. Parsing the short sentences and reading between the lines, he facepalmed because _of course_ he would have the only crew able to catch a _fishman_ while fishing for _Sea King_ with a _regular-sized fishing net_.

Now free, the fishman stood up, proving Marshall's guess about his height to be correct, looking around warily but curiously as he asked the guy who was clearly the captain, "hey, you okay man?"

"I'm fine, just marveling at the stupidity," Marshall ground out.

The fishman looked a bit sheepish, rubbing the back of his head and ruffling the spiky dark blue hair as he agreed, "yeah, not exactly my proudest moment." Despite his intimidating appearance, the fishman turned out to be surprisingly laidback, cheerfully introducing himself, "name's Zarazan, barracuda fishman." He grinned, which with his slight underbite and visibly fang-filled mouth might have looked frightening to regular people, but to them it wasn't anything worth noticing. Zarazan's grin changed, becoming more natural, which proved that the earlier expression had been a test.

His crew all introduced themselves, Rune pointing to Trax and introducing him as the tiger proudly chuffed. Vertara even added an apology for catching him, which Zarazan waved away with a comment about it being his own fault for not paying attention. Planting his hands on his hips and surveying the assembled crew after a few minutes more of talking, Zarazan abruptly asked, "so there any openings in your crew?"

Marshall didn't even blink, just looked at the barracuda fishman standing with ease and confidence in front of him and his crew. Dressed in a pair of pants and shortsleeved shirt that were more holes than cloth, he could see a myriad of scars on the other's body that could only have come from truly vicious fights. Putting together all the other details he'd noted with the other's dark gray skin, gills, and fins on his forearms, there was one position he was perfect for.

"...Fine. My name's Marshall D. Teach and you're now the designated swimmer. It's your job to save Wilde the next time he jumps into the ocean to escape an amorous walrus."

" _That was one time, damn it!_ " Wilde howled as the rest of the crew cracked up.

* * *

After everyone calmed down (he found Wilde's threats to leave all of them seeing stars until they died hilarious), Marshall gave one last chuckle then clapped his hands, saying, "right, first thing's first: Olivia." The doctor immediately straightened. "Give your new crewmate a check-up and establish a baseline while I go start making lunch, the rest of you pack up the net."

With that, he spun on his heel and headed to the kitchen.

* * *

("Hey, I was just wondering, what's the deal with the jewelry?" Zarazan asked, wordlessly pointing to the bead bracelet around her wrist when the doctor looked confused. "Every one of your crew has one, even the kid and the swordsman."

Glancing at the warm golden beads as she recorded Zarazan's medical information, Olivia smiled.

"Don't worry, you'll find out...when is your birthday?")

* * *

Three months later, they once more came across Charlotte Compote.

The battle was short and bloody, but Marshall was proud to say that his crew did a lot better this time, using teamwork to cover each other's weaknesses and minimize injuries. But as much as they'd improved, it still came down to a fight between him and Compote in the end.

Zarazan did pretty well in his first major battle with the crew, covering the retreat and displaying a high level of Fishman Karate even with a broken arm.

* * *

They met Compote again a month later.

Then again two months after that.

Then barely three weeks after _that_.

Each time there was a battle, but during the third encounter he had the feeling that Compote was going easy on his crew, just injuring them enough that they had to retreat while not giving him the same courtesy. Each time they clashed it was a fight for their lives, and he was proud to say that he had gotten strong enough to put up a good fight. Compote left the battlefield with more and more wounds each time, but he thought she seemed happy about it?

He didn't understand how they were running into her so much, but one day while he was in the navigation room, it clicked. At first he just thought a certain group of islands looked familiar, then several more bits of information connected and he realized why he recognized them and _oh shit_ they were right in the middle of where Totland would be.

Well, at least that explained the blueberry fog from a few days ago.

" _Fuck._ "


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parties, epiphanies and presents oh my.

As soon as he figured out the reason they kept running into Compote, Marshall hurried to plot a course to take them out of future Big Mom territory and sprinted to the wheel to get the ship moving in the right direction.

Really, it made sense that if they were running around an area being eyed by an Emperor they were going to run into some of that Emperor's crew. Running into Big Mom's eldest daughter alone every time it happened could be considered an odd twist of luck, though he honestly couldn't say whether it was good or bad. Charlotte Compote had proved herself more than capable of kicking their asses without any help, but lately she hadn't made any move to finish off his crew once they retreated. Chances were slim to none that any of her siblings would do the same.

(Maybe Katakuri, later, but until Luffy beat respect into his skull Marshall wasn't going to test the theory.)

If location was the problem, then they just had to go somewhere else, he reasoned, sighing as he took the wheel and pointedly ignored the call of " _captain on deck!_ " as he set about adjusting the Coddi's course. Idiots.

Unfortunately, the New World seemed to have other plans, sending everything from acidic, syrupy rains to icebergs made of rock candy into their path. Marshall refused to be deterred; he fought against the sea from start to finish, determined to get out of the future Emperor's territory. It was a hard battle, but nearly two months and five more encounters with Compote later it was a battle they _won_.

Later he would admit that _maybe_ flipping off the sky and cackling as they sailed through the cotton candy snow was a bit much, but for now?

"We're out! We're out of that sugar-laced hell! _Break out the liquor, it's time to party!_ "

Even Zarazan, a newcomer to his crew, cheered at that.

* * *

Marshall had thought that with them safely out of would-be-Totland the run-ins with Compote would stop, but a month before his birthday he was proven to be _very_ much mistaken.

"Why are you here?!" He had to admit, his crew's swearing as they dashed to clean up the remnants of Zarazan's birthday celebration made for oddly appropriate background music as he stood there gaping at the woman who stood at the edge of their impromptu camp.

"Miss me, sweets?" Compote grinned.

"Not really!" He replied, guarding his crew's backs as they made a run for it, relieved when his haki told they escaped with only a few scratches from the attacks she idly flicked in the direction of the retreat.

"Come now, don't be like that~" the teal-haired woman winked, raising an arm to deflect a kick. Deflect. Not block, _deflect_.

A slow grin spreading across his face at the sight, Marshall laughed.

"Zehahaha! Let's do this!"

The hangover did him no favors (that stuff they got from the Valhallians was _strong_ ) in the ensuing fight, but he was rather proud to say, once he staggered back to the Coddi and his worried crew, that _Compote_ had been the one to retreat first this time.

* * *

"She's courting you." Vertara told him bluntly as Olivia bandaged a fairly serious gash in his side and nodded in agreement.

His mind promptly skipped a beat.

"...What?"

* * *

For lack of a better idea, he called Rouge for a second opinion and, once she was done laughing, his sister confirmed it. " _Oh yeah, bro, she's totally into you_ _,_ " she said after he explained the situation.

Replaying their meetings and her gradual change from indifferent to playful in his mind and considering what he knew about her mother, that actually made sense...Charlotte Linlin was as infamous for her taste in men as she was for her power, after all. For all he knew Compote could take after her mother in that respect. (She certainly inherited Big Mom's strength, he thought with a wince, his side throbbing at the memory.) From what he remembered though, Big Mom strictly controlled who her kids were involved with, unless that only started when Totland was established? He couldn't think of a reason why Compote would risk her mother's ire by leaving her territory otherwise.

Frowning, he thought back to the bits and pieces he remembered Compote letting slip during their bouts (which was apparently a thing that happened to all Ds, not just Luffy), putting them together with her facial expressions and coming to the realization that she actually was having fun during their fights, which were honestly more like sparring matches now. She laughed freely now, happiness making her steps lighter and her attacks stronger every time he matched her blow for blow - wait. Running that back through his mind _holy fuck_ she really had been flirting with him hadn't she?

Marshall gave this newfound knowledge the consideration it was due...by looking back on his life choices that led to this moment incredulously.

He must have been silent a bit too long, because when he blinked away the daze he'd fallen into the first thing he heard was Rouge freaking out.

"- _are you okay, bro? Bro? Di_ _d I break you?! I'm sorry bro!_ "

Chuckling at the panic in her voice, he had to shout to get her attention before he could start calming his sister down. "I'm fine, sis, no need to worry," he sighed, leaning back and looking up pensively, "just had some thinking to do."

There was a slight before Rouge asked, oddly subdued, " _what are you going to do?_ "

He could only answer honestly. "I don't know."

* * *

The Coddiwomple docked at an inhabited island a week later to celebrate his twenty-second birthday (not that the crew knew how old he was), barely a day after he healed from his and Compote's last spar.

He was actually impressed by how smoothly they pulled off setting up the surprise party; buying out the largest tavern on the island for the day, hanging streamers and rushing through last minute decorating while he was distracted by getting supplies. They bribed the tavern owner and his wife to prepare the food while the crew got the presents, which was a good plan since he was the only one on the crew that was any good at cooking. When all the preparations were done, they sent Rune to tell him that the meeting place was changed to the tavern and boom, he walked through the door fifteen minutes later to be greeted by his crew's collective roar of:

" _Surprise!_ "

For just a moment he was back on Orango with Annie and her family, the smell of food teasing his nose and cheerful voices ringing in his ears, that same feeling of warmth welling up inside him. A blink and he was back in the present, smiling with misty eyes at his crew as they grinned back, all of them clustered around a table piled high with food with a smaller table off to the side stacked with presents. It wasn't easy pulling them all into a hug, but he managed.

Zarazan squirmed free, beaming ecstatically as he gestured to the presents, his new beaded bracelet glinting blue-green in the light, "Come on, presents first, then food!" He urged, and Marshall laughed as he indulged the fishman, releasing the rest of his crew as he made his way over to the gift table.

The skill of the ones who'd wrapped the gifts ranged from sloppy to the picture of elegance, but he opened each one with the same amount of appreciation...and when he opened a certain present, he burst out laughing. Vertara, the one responsible for that particular gift, was the very definition of 'shit-eating grin' as he lifted the source of his amusement out of the box.

It was a hat. Specifically, a hat the same dark purple as his coat, with a black band and a large gray-feathered plume.

"Well, at least it's better than the last one," he snorted, shaking his head, lips quirked up in amusement as he put it on, much to his gathered crew's delight. As expected, it fit perfectly, and he grinned as his crew cheered. Wilde's gift was a royal cape, an actual fur-lined _royal cape_ , and he gave the teen the deadpanned look that this deserved, the thief smiling back unrepentantly. His ship doctor at least refrained from gag gifts, Olivia having elected to give him a saber, one he recognized as Valhallian workmanship (he looked at her and raised an eyebrow, impressed by her ability to plan ahead, and she preened in response).

Feral had obviously teamed up with his doctor when it came to thinking of gift ideas, because she gave him a sword sharpening kit and a vicious grin as she informed him that she would teach him how to use his new blade. He stared at the swordsman, voicing his suspicion that, "this is payback for the haki training, isn't it." She didn't reply, but her widening grin meant she didn't have to. Laughing to himself because yeah, he probably deserved that, he moved on. Trax gave him a book, oddly enough, and he blinked in surprise. He really hadn't expected the tiger's taste in literature to lean towards romance novels...he flipped through a few pages and shrugged, thanking the big cat for the gift.

Rune gave him a very _familiar_ looking weapon: three hooked claws connected to a metal plate that would cover the back of his hand with two bands looping around to secure it over his palm when worn. His smile was a tad strained, but seeing the hopeful look on the kid's face the expression eased as Marshall thanked him sincerely. The beaming smile on Rune's face was worth letting Canon have the victory.

Zarazan's present was the most surprising, a pearl-studded belt and knife sheath, perfect for replacing the one he currently using that was holding together with thread and spite. Swapping out old for new, he looked at the old belt and sheath thoughtfully. They'd make a good wristband, he decided, setting the idea to the side for later consideration as he thanked the barracuda fishman.

Once the presents were taken care of, it was time for food, starting with the cake that Vertara and Zarazan carted out between them.

("Specially ordered from the bakery in town," Olivia assured him.

" _Thank you._ ")

He cut the cake - chocolate with vanilla icing and rosette - and proceeded to dig in, the others following suit. Laughter and booze flowed freely, the tavern owner Manning the bar, sweaty but happy as he served the partying crew, the older man's smile growing wider as some of the townsfolk cautiously poked their heads through the door only to get waved in. More and more people drifted in and got invited to join until the room was filled to capacity, the celebration spilling out into the street.

Midway through the party, Marshall noticed that at some point Compote had slipped in, moving silently through the crowd to sit at the bar. She was sipping at her drink as she watched the celebration around her, and he couldn't help thinking that she looked strangely vulnerable as she sat there, a lone island in a sea of people. Watching her watch the joyous crowd, he sighed.

Joining Compote at the bar, Marshall let himself be wooed for the night.

Being chased was all well and good, but eventually you had to let yourself get caught.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SITeach has the Best/Worst Sister Ever and no one will convince him otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Couldn't just leave you all hanging so here, have another chapter. :)

" _So you let yourself get caught, huh?_ " Rouge's voice was pure knowing, which Marshall magnanimously decided to ignore. It was his own fault for calling her to let her know how things had turned out anyway, he inwardly sighed.

" _Yes_ , I gave in. We spent the night together, I made her breakfast and then lunch the next day. That's all that happened."

" _Hey, I never said I blamed you! She's strong and gorgeous to boot, who_ wouldn't _want to hit that?_ "

Raising an eyebrow, he asked, "including you, I'm guessing?"

" _Damn right!_ " Rouge laughed, sighing faux-wistfully before she declared, " _alas, my heart belongs to another, so let me live vacariously through you until the big lug finally gets it into his head to sweep me off my feet. Details, bro, I need details!_ "

"Not a chance," he said bluntly, making a half-joking motion to hang up.

" _Kidding, kidding!_ " Rouge apologized between laughs. Once she calmed down, she asked more seriously, " _still, what made you decide to go for it?_ "

Remembering the lost look on the usually confident woman's face back at the party and the look of stunned joy when he presented her with breakfast, he could only respond, "what can I say? I'm a sucker for lost causes."

(Somehow, out of the two of them Compote had been the most awkward and unsure the morning after, and that made his instincts sit up and take notice. It was part of the reason he dragged his feet about leaving until it was late enough he could get away with staying for lunch.)

It likely said something about him that Rouge just made an agreeing sound, expression sympathetic.

* * *

While he was reading Trax's present, which was actually pretty good, he suddenly remembered that Compote's birthday was October fifteenth.

Should he? Chances were he'd never see her again...

In a fit of sentimentality, he decided to make her a bracelet like he had for most of his crew, except the beads would be shaped like pieces of fruit. A bit childish maybe, but considering the fruit hat she'd wear in the future he figured she'd like it.

Once it was finished he carried it around in his pocket, just in case.

* * *

Two months later, he was running after the angry mob chasing Wilde when he saw Compote standing on the side of the street.

Remembering the date and the gift in his pocket and figuring he didn't have anything to lose, he tossed it to her as he ran by, shouting over his shoulder.

"Happy birthday!"

* * *

(He would never know how much his hastily given gift meant to her.

It was only by sheer chance that she was on that island, a small problem with her ship that was annoying enough that she'd docked to have it fixed rather than sailing straight back to Mama's territory. As wonderful as it and breakfast the next morning had been, she hadn't expected to see him after the night they'd spent together.

It had caught her off-guard, walking into that tavern and witnessing the party within, so different from Mama's parties that she had briefly frozen in surprise. She was embarrassed that it took her glimpsing the presents and overhearing one of his crew giving a toast before she realized that she had walked into a birthday party, _his_ birthday party. The air was filled with laughter, honest laughter untainted by cruelty, not a trace of fear to be seen in the faces of those attending. It had been so _different_ , the only thing she could do was go and sit at the bar, nursing a drink and feeling so out of place. It was as she watched him interact with his crew and others at the party that it hit her that what she felt for wasn't just mild attraction because of his power, though that was certainly what first sparked her interest.

At some point during their many fights, she found herself genuinely caring about him, and that knowledge shook her to the core. It was only supposed to be one night of wooing, a delightful end to a long chase and then she would put him out of her mind. Emotions, specifically hers, never factored into it, and so while the first part was a great success, the second not so much.

She had decided beforehand that she would be content with whatever happened afterwards, but she couldn't seem to forget him. Even if she no longer sought him out, his image lingered in her mind and came to the forefront at the oddest times. Two months passed, and she was sure he had moved on, further into the New World or even to Paradise, which was why it was such a shock to see him again, even more so to realize that _he_ remembered _her_.

She stayed where she was and watched until he disappeared from sight before she looked down to see what he'd tossed her, his parting words ringing in her ears. It was a bracelet, the glass beads shaped like pieces of fruit, each one a different color. She recalled the bracelets and necklaces his crew wore, remembering how he'd told her over breakfast that he'd made them for his crew and his sister, people he cared for, and her eyes welled with tears. Clutching the bracelet to her chest, she quietly cried, cradling the proof that someone cared against her heart.

Later, when her tears dried and she was safely out of sight in her ship's cabin, Compote marveled at each glass charm, gently touching a strawberry, a banana and several more. It was beautiful, the amount of care that went into making it obvious. Having him give her something previously reserved for his crew, his _family_...the feeling was indescribable.

From that day forward, she never took it off. As the years passed, that bracelet was the only thing that kept a single, hidden spark of humanity inside her alive.)


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minks are fluffy and make good pillows. This is fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been kind of a rough week for me, so here, have some fluff.

"Okay, so this isn'tas bad as it looks,"

Looking pointedly at Wilde's sequined miniskirt, Rune's trailing feather boa and star-shaped sunglasses, Feral's bright blue skin, Trax's sombrero, Zarazan's lipstick, Olivia's thigh bone staff, Vertara's new tattoo and the panda, Marshall snorted in disbelief. In a voice drier than Alabasta, he said flatly, "I'm sure."

His idiots all looked away, expressions sheepish.

Letting his crew stew for awhile, finally he sighed resignedly and asked, "is anyone going to explain why there's a panda?"

Vertara piped up, wincing at Marshall's narrowed look and jerking her hand away from where she was poking her tattoo, "it was when we got separated during the flamingo riot; we stumbled into this noble's private zoo and then the kitchen exploded, so..."

"Right, say no more," Marshall sighed. "The panda's here now, so what do we do with him?"

The panda raised a paw, "I'm actually a Mink,"

Okay then.

"You got any skills?"

A thoughtful look on his furry face, the panda offered, "I'm a decent gunner?"

"Good to know but not exactly what I was looking for." The Mink's ears drooped before Marshall continued, "how are you at organizing a treasury?"

The formerly disappointed panda perked up, "I can learn!"

"Consider yourself hired."

"Yes! No more inventory duty!" Wilde cheered.

"Don't worry, I'll find you something else to do," Marshall smirked.

The thief whimpered, Trax putting a consoling paw on the teen's shoulder.

* * *

They found out a few days later that when the panda - who introduced himself as Cino - said he was a decent gunner, he meant decent by _New World_ standards.

Staring as the flaming wreckage of the attacking pirate ship sank into the ocean, his crew congratulating Cino on the great shot, Marshall had only one thing to say.

"Since when did we have a cannon?"

* * *

It turned out that not only the Coddi have _a_ cannon, she had a _lot_ of cannons.

Blinking at the massive amount of firepower stored in the secondary armory that yes, included cannons, Marshall sighed. Cino was excitingly taking inventory of their munitions and he left the happy panda to it. Shaking his head, he wandered off to fix lunch.

(He'd discovered some bamboo at the back of the pantry and been briefly confused. Said confusion had lasted until he'd mentioned it and Vertara had looked shifty, muttering something about barbecue.

Yeah, he did _not_ want to know.)

* * *

"Excuse me, what are you doing?"

Hearing the puzzlement in the Mink's voice, Marshall grunted, "training," as he ducked under Vertara's swipe and retaliated with a punch to her sternum. The cannibal went skidding back across Coddi's deck, growling and eyes bright, dangerously close to slipping into berserker mode.

Between dodging Vertara's increasingly frustrated swipes, he explained the situation to the bewildered panda. "-so we're trying to get to where Vertara has a measure of control of herself when she's like that," he concluded, Cino's eyes brightening as he nodded in understanding.

"Like Su-Long except without the moon aspect, yes? Makes sense." Tilting his head, Cino offered, "I was trained for Su-Long, if you'd like some help?"

Holding Vertara back with her jaws alarmingly close to his neck, Marshall replied, "that'd be great, thanks!"

_Wham!_

"Ugh...wha-?"

Grinning down at the dazed Vertara, Marshall said cheerfully, "good news! Cino here's going to be helping out with our training!"

"It's my pleasure," the panda's fuzzy ears twitched as he smiled.

Vertara blinked, looking a bit lost as she eyed her smiling captain and the equally cheerful Mink and drawled, "ooooooo-kay?"

"Fantastic! Let's start now." Marshall cackled.

Cino beamed, taking a stance with electricity crackling around his paws. "Sounds good to me! The best way to learn is by doing!"

"Wait a minute-!"

_Bam!_

" _Davy Jones damnit!_ "

"Zehahaha!"

* * *

Marshall wished he could say he was surprised when Cino came to find him midway through his turn at watch a month after they recruited the Mink, but he really wasn't. Folding his arms on top of the railing, he stayed silent as the panda came up beside him and started talking, voice barely above a whisper as he told his story.

Born on Zou, oldest of six when he left and now possibly more, he'd left for adventure and to experience the outside world. For several years he'd sailed through the New World onboard a merchant ship, proving his worth as a gunner. Things were going well, the merchants not overly friendly but still accepting of a talking panda, until one day the ship was raided by pirates. Most of the crew was captured, the Mink included, and Cino was purchased by one particular noble for his private zoo, where the panda remained until Marshall's crew saved him.

(Marshall thought 'abducted' was more like it, but considering the alternative he chose to exercise some common sense and kept his mouth shut.)

"I never thought I'd be free to return to Zou again if I wanted to, not until Miss Vertara busted through the wall." Button eyes shining, Cino's voice was filled with sincerity as he said, "thank you, Captain, for saving my life."

Marshall kept looking out at the sea, concealing a smile as he replied, "you never have to thank me for that." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cino's smile widen, fuzzy face radiating happiness.

* * *

"Captain? What are you doing?"

Cracking an eye open at Olivia's confused voice, he replied, "what does it look like I'm doing?"

"It...looks like you're using Cino as a pillow?" She asked more than said.

"Exactly." He huffed, closing his eyes to return to his nap as a slightly bewildered Olivia wandered off. Law was definitely onto something with the whole using bear Minks as living pillows idea, or at least he would be. Cino was ridiculously comfy.

When he woke up an hour later, he wasn't at all surprised to find Feral occupying Cino's other side.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Absence makes the heart grow fonder...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the well wishes!

_Gold Roger Declared King of the Pirates!_

Marshall looked at the headline, absently paying the familiar News Coo as dread welled in his stomach, the albatross looking concerned as it looked between him and the paper.

_Caw?_

"Huh? I'm fine, it's just...something is going to happen soon, something I wish I had more time to prepare for. I didn't want things to end so soon..."

_Caw-caw?_

"All good things must come to an end..."

_Ca-caw..._

"...I'll miss them..."

He and the bird shared a brief moment of silence, the albatross resting a sympathetic wing on his shoulder. Eventually, as if by unspoken agreement, the two parted, Marshall straightening from where he was leaning on the rail and the News Coo taking flight. "Fly safe!" He called out, lifting a hand in a brief wave.

_Caw!_

You too, the bird's parting cry seemed to say.

Oh, how he wished that was an option, Marshall sighed, leaving the paper on the railing but taking the bounties as he turned to head back to his quarters. The countdown to the end was starting, and he could hear the sand pouring threw the hourglass already. Dark clouds were forming on the horizon, roars of thunder ringing out in warning.

There was a storm coming.

As if on cue, Chuckles began to ring.

* * *

The moment he announced that he was heading off alone to meet Rouge, his crew erupted with exclamations of surprise and questioning shouts. He'd expected such a reaction, but it still took a minute before he got them to quiet down enough for him to explain, "Rouge called, she has something important to tell me and doesn't want to deal with you guys or her own crew eavesdropping,"

Which they would and they knew it, Zarazan and Cino included, not one of them having the decency to look sheepish at being called out.

"You guys can go meet up with Rouge's crew or split up to have fun, I don't care as long as Coddi isn't damaged." He said, rolling his eyes at the excited looks they exchanged at his words. "I'll head out when we reach the next island in a few days, so try and restrain yourselves until then."

Another exchange of glances, followed by pointed silence and mischievous grins.

Marshall sighed.

* * *

Miraculously his crew did behave themselves on the way to the island, meanwhile he found himself wound tighter than a bowstring stretched to the breaking point. He had a sneaking suspicion he knew what Rouge was so excited to tell him that she'd barely managed to get out the request to meet in person.

He had the name of the island Rouge wanted to meet on; if his calculations were right, he should be able to get there within a week even taking into account possible detours.

Tilting his hat down to hide his face as he heard the calls of farewell behind him, he sent his crew a backwards wave as he walked off, bag slung over his shoulder.

If his eyes were wet, well, no one could see it beneath the shadow of his hat.

* * *

Two days and one island later, he found himself staring at the rowboat bobbing beside the dock, untied and just big enough for him to stretch out, Marshall sighed. "Looks like I've come full circle, huh..."

Oh, why not? He'd started out his journey in a boat just like this one, seemed fitting to set out on the end of it in one too. Shrugging, he climbed into the boat, checked his Log Pose and grabbed the oars, pushing away from the dock and out to open sea.

* * *

It took a full week of travel to reach the island his sister had chosen for a meeting place, and by the time he tied his new rowboat to the dock he was freshly shaved and felt ready to face what Rouge had to tell him.

Rouge was sitting at a table outside a small cafe overlooking the beach when he found her, and he smiled as her face lit up. "Marshall! You made it!" She cheered, jumping up and throwing her arms around him in a hug that he happily returned. He sat down across from her after the hug ended, more relaxed than he'd been since he'd seen that headline. There was already a glass of tea waiting for him, and when he took a curious sip he tasted a hint of something fruity. Not bad.

"I didn't expect you to pick a place like this to meet," he commented, waving his hand to indicate the cafe, the idyllic village, the island itself.

"I know! Isn't it awesome? I actually found this place completely by accident!"

'This place' being one of the many islands in the Plaeides Archipelago, a collection of small, sparsely populated islands in the New World just a short jaunt across the Calm Belt away from the South Blue (the significance of which was not lost on him).

"Seems pretty peaceful," he noted, adding. "Tea's good too."

"It is!" Rouge said cheerfully, taking a sip of her own drink and letting out a happy sigh. "Thanks for coming so quickly; the latest ghost story has the Coddi near Erebas Island so I wasn't expecting you for at least another couple days."

Shooting her a disbelieving look, he looked pointedly at his glass of tea and then back at Rouge who just grinned and said, "wistful thinking," as the two of them shared a laugh, teeth bared in wide grins. As they caught their breath Rouge's eyes met his, the look in them a mix of uncertainty and excitement. Fidgeting in her seat, his sister was practically vibrating as her excitement overshadowed her trepidation and she blurted out, "I'm pregnant!"

The world stopped, or at least it seemed to as Marshall looked at the beaming smile on Rouge's face. His mind went blank, thoughts dissolving into static as the sound of blood rushing through his ears became all he could hear.

_It was happening._

In his mind, the countdown reached zero. Canon loomed like a tidal wave, poised to send them all to the Locker as Rouge continued to smile, oblivious to the storm her announcement would unleash on the world.

Roger's execution. The Golden Age of Piracy. The hunt for the Pirate King's child. _Baterilla_.

Hidden beneath the table, one hand curled into a tight fist. Like hell he was going to let that massacre happen!

"-shall! Marshall!" Rouge's voice startled him out of his thoughts, causing him to blink and look up to see the concerned look on her face as she asked, "are you okay?"

Mustering up a smile, he waved away the question as he replied, "yeah, I'm good, just had trouble wrapping my head around the idea that Roger finally got a clue and swept you off your feet." Rouge's worried look melted away, leaving behind a radiant smile as she giggled. Reaching across the table, he put his hand over his sister's and met her eyes as he smiled, saying honestly, "I'm happy for you."

Slotting their fingers together, Rouge smiled back, teasing gently, "aren't you a doting uncle already?"

"Seas yes, how else will I keep the kid from turning out as oblivious as his father?" He shot back without missing a beat.

Rouge outright _cackled_.

* * *

"So we actually have some names picked out already," Rouge told him after her laughter subsided.

Already having a feeling what he was about to hear, Marshall nonetheless put on a curious face as he asked, "so soon?"

The blonde woman nodded, "yup! We decided on Ann if it's a girl, Ace if it's a boy. What do you think?" Underneath the seemingly casual question was a thread of nervousness.

What answer could he give other than, "they're both great names,"

His sister let out a relieved sigh, the last bit of trepidation appearing to leave her with the sound, the space left behind filled by joy as she straightened and immediately began telling him about the various ideas she had and plans she was making, unaware that with every word his heart was breaking. The hope in her voice was nearly his undoing, and it was as Rouge was talking about all the stories she'd tell her baby that the idea came to him.

Pulling his recording dial out of his coat, he interrupted.

"Hey Rouge, I had an idea..."

* * *

"So, where are you heading now? Back to your crew?" Marshall asked as they walked down the beach a few hours later, the sun setting and painting the horizon bright red.

"Nah, I figure I'd head back to Baterilla and share the good news. I've got family there and that means that they're going to be the kid's family too, you know?" Rouge rambled, practically skipping to keep up with his longer strides that he lengthened purely to see her grumble and pout, the expression fading into giggles when he laughed at her.

Stopping and turning on his heel so he stood in front of her, he pulled his sister into a hug, lifting her off her feet. "If you need any help, just call." He said into her hair, and he could hear the smile in her voice as she replied, her arms coming up to wrap around his neck.

"I will."


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parting is such sweet sorrow...

When Marshall met Gol D. Roger for the first time he punched the Pirate King in the face.

What? As Rouge's brother he was honor-bound to do it.

The meeting happened by sheer chance, the events that brought Marshall to that particular island a long, convoluted story involving six revolutions, nine Sea King attacks, three weddings, several duels for the honor of three princesses and a prince, five poker tournaments, and the head judge for the New World's 35th Annual Pie-Making Contest (which turned out to be an actual thing, color him surprised). He landed on the island to take a break, turned a corner and ran into Rouge's lover, so naturally he acted on instinct.

It was probably for the best that Roger had snuck away from his crew and didn't seem to take the punch personally, jerking his nose back into place and complimenting him on the nice punch. Marshall was rather confused about how he went from punching the guy to meeting the Pirate King's crew and then holding a bottle of rum in his hand as a party erupted around him, but he shrugged and went with it.

He did, belatedly, introduce himself to Roger, who suddenly looked like he'd been hit over the head with a fish.

("You're her _brother_!" Roger exclaimed, jumping back and pointing dramatically.

Completely bemused, Marshall asked, "what does she tell people about me?"

Roger didn't answer, clapping him on the back and laughing in relief.)

He stayed and chatted with the Pirate King for the rest of the day and most of the night, finding out what Rouge saw in the man.

And that's what the infamous Pirate King was: a man. Not a monster, not a demon, not a disaster, just a man, freer than most but a _man_. A man who loved adventure, loved his crew, and loved Rouge, which was really all Marshall needed to know.

(Which made the knowledge that the man was dying even as he sat there, eating and drinking and laughing, all the more heartbreaking.)

* * *

(When the party wound down in the wee hours of the morning, most of the crew long since lost to dreamland, a miraculously awake Shanks asked his captain, "are you going to invite him to join the crew?"

Looking thoughtfully after the man's retreating back, he replied, simply _knowing_ that it was the truth, Roger answered, "nay, that man's bound for a different adventure!"

Scratching his head in confusion, Shanks shrugged. His captain knew what he was doing.

(Barely four months later, Shanks would look back on that thought and want to kick himself.))

* * *

One of the worst things he'd ever had to do was call his crew and tell them that he wasn't coming back. Though he'd taken Chuckles with him, he'd made sure they got a new one and memorized the replacement's number.

Predictably, they didn't take the news well, shouting (in Trax's case roaring) in denial and demanding to know why. He heard tears in their voices and repressed sobs in the background, and he had to grit his teeth as his heart broke, saying gruffly, "listen up, cause I'm only gonna say this once: I love you guys. Every single one of one are my family as much as Rouge is, which is what makes this so damned painful."

" _...Something bad is going to happen, isn't it?_ " Vertara asked, subdued.

"Davy Jones is preparing the Locker as we speak," he agreed, resigned, "there's a storm brewing, a storm bigger than anything we've ever faced, and my sister's poised to be right smack in the middle of it." Now he felt his eyes burn as he continued, "Vertara, the Coddi's yours now, be sure to take good care of her or she'll kick your ass." There was a choked laugh from the other end of the line that faded into a muffled sob, "Olivia, the second drawer of the nightstand in my quarters, there's something in there I want you to keep safe."

" _Consider it done, Captain,_ " Olivia replied, the snail copying her tearful smile.

"Wilde, you get your pick of the Treasury, most of it's stuff you put in there anyway," he mock-grumbled, adding, "come to think of it, you get the same, Cino, your pick of the Treasury. You organized the thing so you probably know more about what's in there than I do. Oh, and all the bamboo in the kitchen."

Two tear-filled laughs answered him.

"Trax, you get the last three volumes of that series you were reading; I hid them on the top shelf of the first bookcase in the library as a surprise to celebrate the day you got shanghaied into the madness."

A soft growl responded, to his ears sounding slightly wet.

"Feral, check under the bench in the crow's nest, there should be a new sword maintenance kit and a bottle of North Blue vodka, have fun." He paused, a hint of mischief slipping into his voice as he teased, "also, I give you my blessing to get together with that one guy you met on Aris Island, you know, the blond guy with the directional sense of a drunken squirrel?" And hadn't _that_ been a surprise. Of course, watching Feral fall her version of head over heels running after the guy and pulling him out of trouble had been _hilarious_.

The swordsman's answering growl was equal parts fond and embarrassed as his words sparked a wave of delighted laughter.

"Zarazan, you get the last of the Sea King steaks by virtue of being the only one besides me who knows how to cook the things." The fishman snorted in amusement, mood lifted in spite of himself at the reminder that aside from his captain he was the best cook on the ship. "I also have an Eternal Pose to Fishman Island in the navigation room if you wanted that."

" _Thanks, Captain._ " Zarazan grinned.

"Rune, look in the top of Vertara's closet. I hid some things that I thought you might find helpful in those experiments you thought I didn't know about in the back of Olivia's medicine cabinet."

" _Grk!_ "

Laughing at the shocked sound the kid made, he hummed thoughtfully, "let's see, I think that's everything...anyway, guess if you find anything you want, help yourselves."

Taking a breath and listening to the silence on the other end of the line, he turned serious. "Consider this my final order as your captain: _stay alive_. Keep your heads down, become Warlords, join another crew, settle down on an island somewhere for all I care, just stay alive and, seas willing, stay safe."

" _Are...are you and Miss Rouge going to be okay, Captain?_ " Rune asked tentatively.

"Hopefully." He sighed.

" _The Coddi's currently docked at Thenetos Island, we'll stay here for now. Call us if you need anything and we'll set sail._ " Vertara told him, poisonous golden eyes fierce as she met his gaze through Chuckles.

"I will."

A pause, and then he smiled.

"Besides, this isn't goodbye, just see you later."

It was strange watching a snail cry as his crew burst into tears, but he couldn't say anything, seeing as by the end of the call his own eyes were the farthest thing from dry.

* * *

The day of Roger's execution Marshall was nowhere near Loguetown.

Stretched out in his rowboat barely a day's journey from the South Blue, nothing but sea for miles around, he felt it when the world itself seemed to shudder. Grabbing an unopened bottle of rum from his side, he opened and poured half of it overboard, raising the rest in a toast and uttering, "the king is dead, long live the king,"

 _The king is dead, long live the king,_ the sea echoed.

* * *

A month later, Chuckles rang.

He picked up on the first ring and the snail's features morphed into the familiar visage of his sister. Her voice wavering, Rouge said the words he had been both hoping and dreading to hear since Roger's head hit the ground.

" _...Marshall, I need help._ "

"I'm on my way."


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Baterilla Massacre happens...with a slight difference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS STORY HAS FANART! 🎉🎉 Thank you, NightHunterDeath, for the gorgeous art!
> 
> https://www.deviantart.com/nighthunterdeath/art/Thats-the-Ways-Marshall-D-Teach-854398381
> 
> I highly recommend listening to Indestructible by Disturbed during the fight scenes. ;)

The Marines were setting up a blockade around Baterilla, Rouge told him, and once she hung up Marshall didn't waste any time, bullying the first Sea King he saw into taking him across the Calm Belt.

It took two days to get to Rouge's home island, two days that he spent going out of his mind with worry as the timer in the back of his mind quickly counted down. He called his crew to let them know what was going on; Thenetos Island wasn't that far from the South Blue objectively speaking, a week's sailing if they used the Dials to cross the Calm Belt, and Vertara assured him that they were setting sail as they spoke.

He told them how to get to Baterilla and hung up knowing that they wouldn't make it in time.

Dread pooled in his stomach as he could have _sworn_ he heard the sound of sand falling through an hourglass, fists clenched tight as he struggled to breathe through his growing panic. It was one thing to read about it and another to know it was about to happen, that the Marines were about to wipe out an entire generation of children in search of a child that they weren't sure was on the island or in fact even existed. His eyes narrowed, because _fuck that_ , the haki seeping from his body spurring his purloined Sea King to swim faster.

Then they came into sight of the blockade, the first scream reaching his ears...

And Marshall D. Teach saw _red_.

* * *

(Jumping from his rowboat to his captured Sea King's head, the red sea serpent trembling from its dragon-like head to its spiny-finned tail from the sheer _fury_ radiating from the _monster_ atop its skull, Marshall bared his teeth.

"You see those ships right there? The ones with the white and blue sails." He pointed, "I want you to find all the others you can find and _**feast**_." He _snarled_ , disappearing before the last word finished echoing.

The Sea King's shaking paused as the order sank in, and then it immediately swam off to do as told.)

* * *

Baterilla wasn't a large island, but it wasn't a small one either, the edges surrounded by bluffs and cliffs and the interior made up of rolling hills and grassy plains interspersed with groups of trees.

He found his sister and several others that she had to be related to leading at least two dozen women and children towards the back of the island, lingering at the back of the crowd to help any stragglers. He landed a short distance away, already calling out, "Rouge!"

She whipped around at the call, her face lighting up as she launched herself forward, Shaving across the distance to tackle him in a hug. "Marshall! You came!"

"You idiot, of course I did, where else would I go when my sister calls for help?" He shot back, returning her hug with one just as fierce.

One of the men helping with the evacuation's faces twitched when he heard those words, an indecipherable look flashing across his features before he turned to continue to guiding the fearful crowd.

(More and more screams and angry shouts were coming from the town, but worse was the _laughter_ , high and mocking.)

"You got here just in time," Rouge said, pulling back enough to look at him but not letting go just yet, "the Marines just started making landfall and this is the last group to get to the caves at the back of the island." She hesitated, a shadow crossing her eyes as she whispered, "or at least the last group that believed me."

He hugged her tighter, uncaring of the warm droplets falling against his neck where she buried her head.

Only a minute later Rouge pulled back, this time dropping to stand in front of him. His sister's eyes were still wet as they met his own, an entire conversation passing without a single word spoken.

 _I'll stay and help you,_ her eyes hardened stubbornly.

 _Not a chance,_ his own narrowed.

 _I know Armament and I'm good in a fight!_ She protested. _There's no reason not to let me help!_

 _Yes there is! A damn good one!_ He argued back.

 _I'm pregnant, not dead!_ She scowled.

_Exactly, and I plan to keep it that way!_

Taken aback by the vehemence in his face, Rouge reluctantly backed down because he was right, she wasn't just protecting herself now. All it would take was one good blow to the abdomen...

Shuddering at the horrific thought, she looked back at Marshall, making a face that conveyed agreement and a good deal of cursing that he was right. He grinned in response, and she couldn't help snorting in laughter at his triumphant look.

As he turned towards where he sensed the Marines moving, plumes of smoke rising from the direction of the town, she looked at her brother's back. Broad shoulders clad in his purple captain's coat, looking so impossibly strong it reminded her of the back of another man she loved. Choking back a sob, she whispered, " _thank you_ ,"

"I never need thanks for something like this, but for what it's worth...I love you, sis." He looked at her from the corner of his eye, at the protective arm she had curled around her stomach. He sensed the Marines getting closer and reached out to nudge Rouge in the direction the evacuation had gone, telling her, "Now go, get out of here. Get off this island with the others and keep your head down. If I come find you after this and you're dead, I'll raise you from the Locker to kill you myself."

He was completely serious and she knew it.

Laughing nervously, a drop of sweat ran down her face as she took a step back, raising her hands in surrender. She became serious a second later, reaching forward to hug him one more time, nothing but honesty in her voice as she whispered, "I love you, bro."

"I love you, sis." He repeated, the two Ds holding each other tightly before parting, the blonde woman turning and running towards the caves as the black-haired man spun to face the approaching horde.

Saber in one hand, claw weapon in the other, he growled, "now then, let's get started," as the first Marine came into view. They were still a distance away but closing fast, the ones at the front using a half-baked version of Shave. The strongest one he could sense among the tide of bodies was only a Vice-Admiral.

He smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.

When they got close enough to see the lone man standing between them and their mission, any and all jeers abruptly fell silent. Fear trailed ice cold fingers down their spines and _squeezed_.

All of them saw the same thing in that man's eyes as he raised his weapons:

 _ **Death**_.

* * *

(The Vice-Admiral had stepped forward to order the man to step aside, sneering at what he saw as a suicidal attempt to buy time, when the man waved his sword and _swoosh_ , their commanding officer's mouth slowly opened...and kept on opening until, with a sickening plop, everything above his mouth fell to the ground.

It took several minutes before it registered what had just happened, the first scream sounding as the Vice-Admiral's body fell to the ground with a thump. Several Marines attempted to gun the man down only to meet the same fate as their commander, bodies chopped into pieces with a wave of his sword. The bullets that hit did nothing, ricocheting off to the side or simply falling to the ground without even rustling his clothes. That was when the brace of Marines began to panic.

They were the scouts and vanguard, they weren't equipped for combat!

Several of turned and tried to run, only to be cut down by either the enemy or their comrades for the crime of desertion. More pulled out Baby Transponder Snails to call the ships and the main force for backup, but none of the calls connected, those attempting to make them breaking down in fear and denial. Yet the rest tried to fight, charging the enemy.

He was just one man, they cried, they could win!

They were wrong on both accounts.

They couldn't win, and he wasn't a man.

He was a _devil_.)

* * *

(" _No, no no-!"_

_"Please don't-!"_

_"Try to go around him-!"_

_"Aiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee!"_

_"The dark-! THE DARK-!"_

_"We were just following orders-"_

**_Crunch_**

* * *

(The reinforcements arrived too late.)

* * *

By the time the Coddiwomple arrived a week later, the battle was long over, if it could have even been called that.

Pieces of debris floated around the coast, bits of wood and torn sails all that remained of the blockade. From above it looked like the island had been split in half, one side a lush, vibrant green and the other a mix of black and dark red, the center of the island containing the worst of the carnage.

When they arrived at the scene, it looked more like the killing ground for a savage beast than the site of an actual battle. The formerly green hills had been dyed red, transformed into a sea of blood of blood and viscera, the sickly-sweet stench of death filling the air. Vertara breathed in deeply, sighing in pleasure as Cino and Zarazan covered their noses.

Staying above the literal lake of blood that had yet to dry with the aid of Moonwalk, they raced towards the figure they could see standing on top of the hill, crying out in shock when they got close enough to see the state of their captain.

Marshall D. Teach was hardly recognizable beneath the coat of blood covering every inch of his body, only some of it his. Coat tattered and torn, his hat lost somewhere in the sea of bodies and his weapons still firmly clasped in his hands, he might have been a statue for all the life he showed.

It took a moment, but eventually they saw the shallow rise and fall of his chest and erupted, trying to shout over each other to be heard.

"He's alive!"

"Captain, Captain can you hear me?"

"We need to get him back to the ship!"

"Roar!"

In the middle of the cacophony, Marshall blinked as the familiar voices reached him, eyes exhausted but focused. Voice faint, he groaned out, "...what took you guys so long...?"

Silence, and then:

" _Captain!_ "

That was the last thing he heard as exhaustion dragged at him, and he passed out, not even feeling it when he hit the ground.

* * *

Waking up four days later to his stomach roaring like an enraged Sea King, the first thing Marshall did was eat the veritable feast laid out at his bedside and then go shower and dress. At some point one of the crew had found his hat and left it sitting on his dresser, clean as the day he'd got it, his coat blood free and neatly folded next to it. One of his crewmembers must have helped him shave at some point since there wasn't a hint of stubble to be seen.

Thankfully, he was fully dressed when Olivia burst through the door and started cursing at him for being out of bed, promptly dragging him back to the infirmary for a check-up.

Most of the Baterillan people had escaped to their sister island and were laying low, the doctor told him as she worked, and the Marines hadn't managed to get out a call for help before their ships - and Transponder Snails - sank. The Baterillans had confirmed that all the Marines who'd come ashore were dead, incredibly grateful to him for saving the evacuees and unlikely to breathe a word of what really happened.

The Saint of Baterilla was what they were calling him, Olivia told him, lips twitching at the look on his face.

And though she danced around the subject, hemming and hawing, he knew what she wasn't saying.

Rouge had disappeared.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One door closes and another opens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, this chapter did not want to be written.
> 
> Caution: May need tissues.

It took two weeks before Marshall was healed enough to search for Rouge, but the minute Olivia cleared him that's exactly what he did. Interrogating the surviving Baterillans confirmed that Rouge had made it to the island but that they'd lost track of her after that. Even the weirdly familiar group of people he questioned only shook their heads, as clueless about where his sister had gone as he was.

He made the decision that he and his crew would split up to search for Rouge. None of them were happy about it, not after they'd just met up again, but they all agreed finding Rouge was more important than their reunion. He set off in his rowboat, which at some point had undergone a makeover and was now twice as large and sporting a small cabin, but after three months of searching still hadn't found a trace of his sister.

A month after that and he was forced to admit defeat, his crew as unhappy about it as he was when they met up near the Calm Belt but their own search equally fruitless. They'd searched what felt like the entire South Blue and it was time to bite the bullet, Marshall grimaced, reaching for Chuckles and not even needing to look as he dialed a number. It was answered on the first ring, and the resulting _roar_ had him holding the snail at arm's length until his ears stopped ringing. It took longer for the noise to die down, but a few haki-laced shouts had the Queen of Spade's crew settling down.

"Have any of you heard from Rouge?" He demanded.

A beat of silence, then Claus admitted, " _...no, we were hoping you had. The message Captain left said she was going to meet you. Did she...?_ " The navigator's voice trailed off.

"She made the meeting." Marshall assured them. "Not sure if I should tell you what it was about considering the chaos currently going on. Has word spread of what happened on Baterilla?"

There was a brief scuffle, then Daisy's voice came through the snail, " _Kind of; word on the waves is that the Marines are scurrying around like rats from a sinking ship, and the birds are saying something big happened in the South Blue, the ravens haven't stopped singing about darkness for a week..._ "

Briefly he summarized the events on Baterilla, leaving out one important bit. When his voice faded, dead silence descended as his sister's crew absorbed the information. It was one thing to try to kill their captain, such things came with the territory of being a pirate and it wasn't like they hadn't clashed with the Marines before, but to kill _children_? Over a _possibility_? That had them all snarling as Jane bit out, the cook's voice filled with raw fury.

" _What. The. Fuck._ "

"Yeah," he agreed, "and that's why I'm calling you guys. I got back on my feet a few months ago and me and my crew looked for her, but we haven't found a thing. I was hoping Rouge might have contacted you guys for help finding a place to lay low, but I'm guessing from your reactions that you haven't heard from her either."

" _No,_ " Kimberly agreed, and he could easily imagine the mermaid shaking her head sadly, " _we'll start helping you look. Frieda knows some people on Drum Island and I have family on Fishman Island, we'll call them after you hang up and ask them to help, so if Captain tries to enter Paradise we'll know._ "

That got the rest of them stirring, each mentioning several contacts they could call to keep an ear out for news about their missing captain, and Marshall managed to muster up a smile as he said, "My crew and I are splitting up to start searching the New World, so if you happen to know any place Rouge might go to ground...?"

 _That_ earned him several suggestions, some of which had him raising an eyebrow. Still, he was sincere as he said, "thank you, all of you."

" _No, thank_ you," Claus replied, reclaiming his ship's snail, " _take care of yourself. Captain would kick our asses if anything happened to you._ "

"Right back at you."

_Click_

* * *

Another month passed and Marshall was forced to concede that Rouge's talent for hiding surpassed his ability to find her. He and his crew had split up to search the places Rouge's crew had told him about but had come up with nothing. He was willing to take help from literally anyone at this point.

"Look, I'm not asking you to drop everything, I'm just asking that you keep an eye out," he persuaded, giving a piece of Sea King to a familiar News Coo.

_Caw..._

"I know you're busy! I'm just saying, if you see her maybe let me know?"

_Caw-caw?_

"Of course it's important!"

_Ca-caw_

"She's my sister and I'm worried, alright? You must have heard about what happened on Baterilla."

_Caw!_

The albatross looked worried now, accepting the ten thousand Beri Marshall handed over and looking thoughtful before offering.

_Caw?_

"That would be great, thanks," he sighed in relief. The bird reached out a wing and patted him on the arm, the two exchanging nods before the News Coo took off.

_Caw!_

_Good luck!_

"Thanks, I'll need it," he sighs, watching the bird, already a black dot on the horizon, vanish from sight.

* * *

One year came and went, and it was as Marshall was resupplying on an island near the West Blue that he found his first sign of Rouge, the merchant he was bartering with mentioning that he reminded her a lot of a nice young woman who passed through a month ago, especially his hair.

Some more questioning got him a direction, and the pieces fell into place after that.

Every rumor, every merchant and restaurant owner's pointing finger got him one step closer to his sister. Island by island, person by person he was closing in.

(Oddly enough, most of the time he barely had to open his mouth before people were telling him which way Rouge went and how they'd heard so much about him while neglecting to mention what exactly they'd heard.

Apparently he was doomed to always wonder what she told people about him, and he'd actually be okay with that if he could just _find_ her.)

All the while, Canon loomed.

* * *

He found Rouge on an isolated, no-name island as the New Year dawned, wanting to cry as the rest of the world celebrated.

Too late, he was _too fucking late_ , he knew even without his haki screaming at him.

There were three people in the tiny house on the bluff, one the familiar light of his sister that glittered with joy even as it wavered, one a steadfast glow that can only be Garp, strong and stubborn as a mountain, and the last...

It was Ace.

There was no one else it could be; that vibrant, glowing light rippled and danced in time to the faint cries of a newborn that he could hear through the door. He didn't pause, walking into the house like it was a room on the Coddiwomple as he said, "damn it Rouge, when I said to get to a safe place I didn't mean disappear for two years! Do you have any idea how worried I was?!"

Two heads turned towards him when the door opened, Rouge's wan yet happy expression brightening even more when she saw him while Garp simply frowned in confusion.

"Big bro, you made it!" She cried, struggling to straighten up from her reclining position on the bed until he hurried over and pressed her gently back down with a hand on her shoulder. She gave in far too easily, but he didn't mention it, preoccupied by the squirming bundle his sister handed him. "This is Gol D. Ace; Ace, this is your uncle Marshall." She said, beaming in joy as he fumbled briefly before holding the baby in the proper position.

Looking down at the baby Ace's face, Marshall saw so much of Rouge in him that it was almost physically painful, especially when he could feel his sister's life fading. Still, he smiled, gently touching one of the baby's pudgy cheeks with the tip of a finger, laughing when the digit was grabbed with surprising strength for a newborn.

"He's cute," he chuckled, lightly knuckling the baby's chin and grinning when the kid honest to Davy Jones _pouted_.

"Of course! He's my kid after all," Rouge said, lifting her chin proudly. On the surface she was the same as ever, just tired from bringing Ace into the world, but he could see it, the sheer _knowing_ in her eyes. His sister knew she was running out of time, and he had to quickly look down to stop the tears welling in his eyes from falling.

She was putting on a good show but fading fast, her light in his haki growing dimmer with each passing moment. There was a wet sheen to his eyes as he handed the baby back to her when she started making grabby hands towards her son. She happily snuggled the bundle of slightly confused but happy baby, beaming as she whispered to the kid, words of love and devotion and surety that he would grow up to be so, so strong.

If only she knew, Marshall thought, stepping back to let her have a moment with her son, only to find himself standing next to Garp.

"So, you're her brother." Garp broke the silence.

"Yes."

"...You know that I can't let you take the kid." There was no doubt in the Vice-Admiral's voice. Unsaid was that there would be a fight if he tried, and Marshall heard it loud and clear.

Neither man looked at each other.

As he watched the mother and son pair on the bed Marshall clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms. He knew. He knew Garp was a monster and he had no chance of winning a fight with him, not yet, but damn if he didn't want to try.

* * *

The tension that settled between them was broken a few minutes later.

"Hey Garp, mind stepping outside for a bit? I need to talk to my bro." Rouge said, absently rocking Ace in her arms as the newborn began to drift off, tired from the excitement of his first day.

"Ah?" Garp blinked, then nodded, muttering a vague agreement as he ducked out, shutting the door politely behind him. Like Rouge and her brother, he knew what was about to happen. The least he could do was give them some privacy.

Then they were alone, not including the sleeping Ace.

Marshall stepped closer to the bed, silent as he looked at his tired sister and nephew, struggling to breathe through his emotions. Finally, he managed to speak, forcing the words out of his throat and choking on every sound.

"Ds either die smiling or not at all...so don't smile, okay sis? Don't smile."

Rouge look at her brother, his lowered head and trembling shoulders, and felt tears gathering in her own eyes even as she refused, shaking her head as she smiled. "Sorry, I can't do that. I'm so happy, I just have to smile." An idea came to her, and she asked, voice growing weaker, "hey bro, that dial of yours, you got it with you?..."

"Yeah, I do."

"Can you set it up? I have something I need to tell Ace."

"Of course."

* * *

(By the end of the recording they were both crying, baby Ace blissfully sleeping through it all.)

* * *

Rouge felt the weakness creeping into her limbs, but she kept her hold on Ace firm and gentle. Her eyes met Marshall's, and once again a thousand words passed in a single moment.

 _I'm sorry I can't stay,_ her eyes said, filled with tears but unimaginably warm.

_I know._

_Tell everyone I'm so happy I met them._

_I will._

_I'm sorry for making you worried._

_You always did do things the hard way._

_Heh, I take after my brother._

_You do._

_Thank you for being my family._

_Thank you for being crazy enough to make me._

"I love you, brother." Rouge said aloud, needing these words in particular to be heard and pouring everything she felt for her brother into them.

Starting from their first meeting, her life after meeting Marshall flashed through her mind; remembering the joys and sorrows, the adventurers and the friends she met along the way that turned into crew, into _family_ , caused more tears to fall. She cherished every memory, the happiness and the pains, the battles and the parties, she loved every moment she spent on these mad, wonderful seas with her family.

Marshall bent down, folding Rouge and Ace into a firm hug as he returned the words, filled with just as much emotion, "I love you, sister."

Somehow, she mustered the strength to slip one arm around Marshall's neck and return the hug, asking softly, "you'll tell my crew what happened?..."

Arms tightening briefly, he answered, "yeah."

 _I'll see you off_ , she heard, and more tears poured from her eyes as she buried her face in Marshall's chest and bawled, unable to hold it back anymore. She didn't want to leave, but if that was the price for her and Roger's son to live then she would gladly pay it. Marshall was there, he would look after Ace; he and his crew and her crew, they would all make sure her boy was safe. Knowing that, it was easy to let the tiredness and strain of two years of pregnancy catch up to her, fatigue settling around her shoulders like a captain's coat as she sagged back on the mound of pillows behind her.

"Can you take it from here, big brother?" She asked, voice barely audible. Her vision was starting to fade, growing dark around the edges, but she heard his answer loud and clear.

"Yes, you can." Though sad, his voice was strong as ever and Rouge knew then that everything would be alright.

Portgas D. Rouge died smiling.

* * *

(Eventually Marshall left the house, Ace in his arms.

Garp was standing off to side of the door and intercepted him when he walked passed the Vice-Admiral, walking with heavy steps towards where he left his boat and the snail within.

Marshall's eyes met Garp's, a sliver of uneasiness running through the Marine at the darkness he felt looking through him. Nonetheless, he wordlessly held out his arms to take the Pirate King's son.

For just a moment, Garp felt as though death itself judged him and found him wanting.

Ever so slowly, Ace passed from his uncle's hands into his grandfather's.)


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Queen is dead, long live the Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! I choose to post this today so you'll all have the candy to console you. Aren't I nice? ;)

The _Queen of Spades_ and the _Coddiwomple_ reached the island on the heels of a storm, both crews barely taking the time drop anchor before spilling out onto the beach.

Dark clouds covered the sky, rumbling threateningly as their feet hit the sand. No words were exchanged as they turned as one, heading towards the presence - the _single_ presence - blazing in their minds. None of them wanted to think about what that meant.

They found Marshall further up the shore, sitting on a fallen log and chugging rum straight from the bottle. He knew they were there, and though Rouge's crew shifted anxiously, they said nothing, waiting with the Coddi's crew to be acknowledged. Finally, the man lowered the bottle, dropping it from between lax fingers to land with a muffled thump next to his feet as he stood, lifting his head and taking a deep breath.

Meeting the eyes of Rouge's crew one by one, he began to speak, " _there is a rumor on the waves..._ "

As one, all of their expressions changed, crumbling into shock, despair and confusion. More than half of them fell to their knees, the other half clinging to each to stay standing as tears began flowing from wide, disbelieving eyes. The Coddi's crew respectfully stood back, their own faces full of pain as their captain delivered the news.

Then Kimberly screamed, the sound one of profound grief and pain. Just like that the dam burst, Rouge's crew giving voice to their pain at the loss of their captain as the storm looming over them broke, rain pouring down like the world was mourning with them.

His own crew were the only ones to notice that Marshall's face was wet before the rain began to fall, but they said nothing.

After all, it wasn't like they were any different.

* * *

Rouge's body was still inside the house, and one by one both her crew and his had gone in to say their goodbyes, emerging from the building with their faces wet with new tears.

He waited outside while they said their goodbyes, his crew gathered around in silent support as finally Claus emerged from the building carrying his captain's body.

Stopping in from of him, his sister's First Mate and navigator said, softly and sincerely, "thank you."

Those two words were like knives in his heart even as he nodded, because no thanks were necessary.

Marshall breathed through the pain, his crew pressing close in unspoken comfort that he sorely needed as they followed the procession down to the beach.

* * *

His sister's funeral was quiet and solemn, so unlike how Rouge was in life that it seemed... _wrong_ to see her off in such a way.

As Claus tried to bring himself to say the needed words, his legs shaking on the _Queen of Spades_ deck like they hadn't since he'd first stepped foot on a ship, Marshall stepped forward, shattering the silence.

"Enough of the solemnity; this isn't what she would want."

Rouge's crew immediately turned to glare at him, Claus's stare the most venomous of all. Mouths opening in preparation to do what, they didn't know and would never find out, the growing anger was diffused by an unexpected voice.

"He's right."

Silence, and when the crew turned to look at her, Jane repeated, voice rough from crying but firm as they'd ever heard it, "he's _right_ , you all _know_ what Captain was like! Hell, she's likely cursing us from the Locker for being all sad and gloomy when we should be seeing her off with a smile!"

Several tearful laughs came from the assembled crew because yes, that sounded like Rouge. Just like that, the tension was broken. Slowly, tentatively, they began to exchange stories; happy, sad, funny, all three at once, but all of them about Rouge. About the memories they made, about the whirlwind she was in their lives, about how she changed them, for the better and irrevocably so.

Portgas D. Rouge was sent off with smiles.

* * *

Marshall didn't remember much of his sister's wake, both by choice and as a consequence of the alcohol Lykan passed around.

(The strongest stuff he'd ever made, the Mink warned, then proceeded to make the first toast.)

Vague memories of music and dancing and stories told through laughing tears rose in his mind when he concentrated, but other than that those three days were a blur, drowned by grief and booze and shared pain. He was sure that he'd contributed a few stories though; the time he and Rouge hit the casinos particularly vividly in his mind. His eyes were dry and itchy and his mouth tasted like moldy cotton, but the memory made him smile.

It felt like the aftermath of one of their parties whenever the two crews met up, and the familiarity was both comforting and painful.

* * *

"Wait, you guys are splitting up?"

Wilde's surprised exclamation brought the exchange of snail numbers and destinations to a halt as eyes turned to thief, Frieda smiling sadly as she walked over to lay a hand on his arm.

"I'm afraid so, sweetheart. We had a good run of it, the _Queen_ will always be our home, but carrying on without Captain...it just don't seem right." She sighed, several of her crewmates nodding.

"Yeah, we'll always be friends," Daisy piped up from Wildred's shoulder with the helmsman nodding along, the two having decided to leave together.

Stephen grinned wryly as he agreed, "can't be arguing with that, pixie," the sparrow-girl giggled, "and it's not goodbye, just 'see you later',"

"I figure we'll get together a few times a year, swap stories and check in and the like," Linda added, Declan and Shiban echoing the sentiment, with Shiban promises to create the best fireworks show they'd ever seen.

"And don't think that means you'll be able to slack off, dazzle-boy!" Shiban told Wilde, pointing dramatically, "next time we meet up you better be able to match me spark for spark!"

That got Wilde to perk up, and he grinned back in challenge, "just try it! You'll need all the practice you can get!"

While the pair joked and teased each other, the rest of the crews looked on and smiled. Vertara and Feral stepped forward, shaking hands and wishing them all well, Feral pointedly growling as she squeezed Andrea's hand in a way that had the other swordsman straightening and growling right back.

"It'll probably do us all good to have time to grieve in our own way," Claus admitted, pushing his glasses up as he watched the two crews mingle, turning what would have been a sad parting into a lively farewell.

Marshall silently agreed, smiling as he and his crew waved goodbye to the _Queen of Spades_ as the ship vanished into the distance, all her crew save one aboard.

* * *

"...You're leaving, aren't you Captain?"

Vertara's oddly subdued voice made Marshall pause with one hand on the Coddi's railing, and he turned his head to see his entire crew gathered behind him. All of them smiled, sad but accepting as he walked towards them, and that made what he was going to do even more painful. "Yes, I need to," he admitted lowly, "Leaving without saying anything wasn't the best idea, I know, but I knew that if you all tried you'd be able to convince me to stay and I just... _can't_. Not now."

"We understand, Captain," Vertara stepped forward, smiling gently, eyes moist as she stretched out her arms in a wordless request for a hug that he was more than happy to answer. Picked up with the force of his hug, she returned the embrace with equal ferocity, sniffling quietly. "It's okay to cry, to need time to grieve, because your family died and you loved her like family should," she told him softly, the others murmuring in agreement, and something in Marshall broke.

Like a boulder worn and battered by waves until it broke, the wall he'd put around his emotions burst. He'd done his best to hold it together, to stand strong in spite of wanting to break down because there were things to do. Things no one else could do, after Garp had taken Ace and left the island. It had killed him to let the Marine go, but he'd needed to do it. Someone had needed to notify Rouge's and his crews, and he'd been the only one able to do it. He'd had to help arrange her send off...with everything to do, there'd been no time to _mourn_. But now...

On the Coddi's deck, surrounded by his crew, Marshall D. Teach cried.

* * *

Parting from his crew was a bittersweet pain, a splinter in his chest that dug deeper and deeper as he said his goodbyes even as they parted with the promise to meet up again. Each of them gave him their snail numbers, encouraging him to call if he needed anything, anything at all, and it was the understanding on their faces that allowed him to muster a smile as he stood in his rowboat and watched as the _Coddiwomple_ faded into the distance.

He knew in his gut that it would probably be a long time before they met again, but...maybe not as long as he'd first thought it'd be.

Sighing to himself, he patted the side of the boat and said, lost in memories of when he'd been adrift in a rowboat much like this one, "looks like it's just you and me, buddy."

Just then, he heard some boards groan in a way that did _not_ sound like a natural response to waves hitting the hull. Marshall paused, brought out of his thoughts as he eyed the wood beneath him suspiciously. After a few minutes of the natural noises of a boat at sea, he snorted, muttering under his breath, "I hope Coddi took the chance to give you some advice,"

He ignored the answering creak and picked up the oars, determined to not think about anything for awhile.

* * *

(The first island Marshall came to, he went to the nearest bar and drank the entire stock, doing his damndest to get drunk.

He didn't succeed, but that pretty much set the tone for the next two years.)


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few highlights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!
> 
> I started a new job recently and haven't had a lot of time or inspiration to write, but I managed to get this done. :)

Marshall would later be embarrassed to admit it, but he didn't remember much of those two years.

Still, he paid attention to basic hygiene; no stubble lasted more than a day on his face, he brushed his teeth, and even ran a brush through his hair. The day he woke up after one of his more _enthusiastic_ attempts to get thoroughly intoxicated and found a knot, he could practically hear Rouge's outraged scream.

His drinking binge was interspersed with brief periods of sobriety as he traveled between islands, which he spent grieving more often than not. Sometimes he cried, great heaving sobs with no witnesses but the sea and his rowboat, other times he sat in silence, remembering the good times and looking at his sister's face grinning up at him from her last wanted poster.

Spending most of his time in a tipsy fog, those two years were a blur of color and sound and sensation, save for some highlights.

* * *

"Teach me how you did that!"

Blinking dazedly, Marshall looked down (and down, then down some more) at the source of the voice.

 _A gremlin_ was his first thought, as he stared at the girl barely as tall as his knee standing imperiously in front of him, hands on her hips and a pout that she likely thought to be an intimidating scowl on her lips. She had bright red hair pulled back into pigtails and purple eyes set in a round face tanned from playing in the sun for hours. Dressed in the kind of tattered clothing that he was familiar with from his own childhood, a dusty and torn belly shirt and pair of shorts with worn sandals, there was no reason the kid should have come up to him.

"...What?"

"Teach me how you did that," the girl repeated, "you sent Little Joe and his lackies running with just a look!"

That must have been the idiots who'd made a ruckus and broke through the pleasant buzz he'd finally reached.

Maybe it was the freckles across her nose, or maybe it was the way she fearlessly came up and started talking that reminded him so, so much of Rouge, but something inside him softened enough that he grunted out, "can't. 'S haki. S'ecial haki, not e'erone got it."

"Well what can you teach me?" The girl persisted.

His piece having been said, he ignored her and drained the last of the booze from the bottle in his hand.

Looking forlornly at the empty container, he sighed. That had been his last bottle, too...

"-ey! Hey!" Blinking at the faint pressure he felt on his foot, he looked down to see the girl jumping up and down on it. Obviously she'd been calling out for awhile, if her expression of frustration was anything to go by. Seeing that she had his attention, she hopped off his foot and demanded to know, "if I give you more booze will you teach me?"

Well, what did he have to lose?

"Sure."

That was when a _pouch_ appeared on her bare stomach, that she proceeded to reach into and pull out a full bottle of the island's specialty rum as she bragged. "Old Man Crabsby never notices when I lift a few bottles here and there; doesn't think I got anyway to sneak them out!"

She was beaming as she handed him the bottle, and well, a deal was a deal.

"...who are you?" He wondered, taking a swig of rum.

"Name's Atreya! Nice to meet ya!"

* * *

"Customer wins again!"

Despite the false cheer, the disbelief in the dealer's voice perfectly matched that in Atreya's eyes, because how could anyone win _twelve times in a row_?

At _dice_.

Regardless of the incredulous looks being thrown his way, her new teacher calmly placed another seemingly impossible bet (triple fours). When the croupier (was that what the guy with the dice was called? She wasn't sure) lifted the cup to reveal - sure enough - three fours, he took a swig from the bottle in one hand and raked in his winnings with the other, otherwise not reacting.

"How are you _doing_ that?" She asked him.

"Practice."

Eventually the other gamblers caught on and started copying his bets, and her teacher's winning streak lasted for almost another hour before the owner of the casino showed up looking murderous.

They left the casino, profits safely stored in her pouch, and she immediately began pestering him to teach her how to do that.

* * *

_...Rouge smiling, Ace held in her arms as her eyes closed and-_

Marshall woke up, breathing hard and heart pounding. Not a nightmare but a memory, one that had him soaking the blankets in cold sweat and tightening his arms around the body in his arms, one warm and breathing-

Wait. Body?

He was sure he'd gone to bed alone.

Puzzled, he looked down to see the redhaired gremlin that had attached herself to him curled up in his arms. Seeing her sleeping peacefully, he decided against getting up, instead sighing and tossing the sweat-soaked blankets aside.

He had admit, he'd gotten used to having someone using him as a pillow - Rouge, Vertara and various members of his crew - and it was nice having someone in bed with him again...

(Atreya opened her eyes when she felt her teacher's breathing ease back into sleep, and she sighed silently in relief.

When he'd started sweating, face twisting in pain at some unseen nightmare, she hadn't known what to do. Fretting and worrying as her teacher suffered, she'd finally done the only thing she could think of and climbed onto the bed and curled up on his chest like a cat. His arms instinctively came up to hug her, and she was glad that it seemed to help.

His sleep was undisturbed for the rest of the night.)

* * *

"So, your name is Marshall?"

Looking up at the gremlin's question, Marshall blinked. He wasn't even buzzed despite already being halfway into the small island bar's stock, but he still had to take a moment to process that before deadpanning.

"You've been traveling with me for half a year and it's taken you this long to figure that out?"

The gremlin bristled.

"It's taken me that long to decipher the slurred mumble you gave me when I asked!"

Which, fair.

* * *

Marshall was starting to think that he _might_ have made a mistake when he'd mentioned using Armament with her kangaroo kicks.

" _HYAAA!_ "

"My leg!"

....Nah, it'd probably be fine.

* * *

"Why does this always happen?" Marshall wondered, speaking to no one in particular as he stared at what had once been a rowboat with a cabin and was now halfway to being called an actual ship.

"Hey, you saved their island, just be glad I talked 'em out of making it bigger!" Atreya the Evil chirped, beaming and bouncing in place - thankfully _without_ using her Devil Fruit - as she looked at the much larger boat. "And hey, we have an actual kitchen now!"

True.

It was a small one, barely larger than a closet, but true. No more running the risk of setting their boat on fire to cook fish or just doing without and eating jerky or other noncooked food.

At that thought, his stomach growled, reminding him that there was a feast going on literally five feet behind him and well, at least it wasn't a Sky Island this time.

* * *

Did you know there were islands under the sea that _weren't_ populated by fishmen? Marshall didn't, and really could have done without the knowledge.

Punching one of the natives trying to harpoon the gremlin in the face, he swore that this place better have some damn good alcohol.

Freaking spontaneous whirlpools...

* * *

(It turns out that it was all a case of mistaken identity due to the local tyrant being a koala Zoan and the gremlin reaching into her pouch for something at the wrong moment.

The natives were very apologetic once the tyrant was dead (the guy tried to kidnap the gremlin, 'nuff said) and the situation was explained, insisting on thanking them by 'improving' their ship.

 _Wood from our Treasure Tree Charbydis,_ they boasted, _finest material for ship-making under the sea!_

So now his rowboat was kind of a ship and damn it, now he had to start thinking of names because he could see where this was going. It could also submerge whenever he wanted to because the wood the natives used kind of repelled water, enabling any ships made from it to sail around underwater? He didn't bother listening to the technical explanation, but the gremlin seemed fascinated.

Still, bigger kitchen and an actual pantry! Sweet!

They also insisted he take the former tyrant's Devil Fruit, which okay, considering what the guy did with it he could see why they didn't want it around.

And yes, the island actually did have some damn good liquor.)

* * *

In his slightly tipsy defense, at the time it had made sense to teach the gremlin Moonwalk and Shave, he just hadn't thought she'd use them like _this_.

"Get the demon!"

"Watch out, it's heading towards-!"

" _Argh!_ "

Marshall watched the utter chaos unfold, the town engulfed in flames and in the process of burning to the ground as the gremlin cackled, gleefully running circles around the guardsmen attempting to corral her.

Tilting his head, he wondered why this situation looked so familiar...

Shrugging it off, he took another drink and sat back to watch the show.

* * *

The first time he woke up when the gremlin had a nightmare, he didn't realize what woke him at first.

He laid on the bed in his new cabin, blinking up at the unfamiliar ceiling before his attention shifted to the bundle of blankets on a makeshift cot near the wall. He saw that bundle trembling and suddenly he was wide awake. He _moved_ , and suddenly he was right next to the smaller bed, crouching down and checking on the gremlin with both eyes and Observation.

Shivering, pinched brow, pained expression...he immediately realized what was happening.

Confirmation came in the form of a soft whimper and nearly inaudible whisper, "...please, don't leave..."

That did it.

Reaching out, he pulled the gremlin into his arms and moved back to the main bed. Sitting down, propping his back against the wall and making sure her head was poised over his heart, he made himself comfortable.

Already the gremlin looked better, face not as pained, and really, staying awake all night wasn't a hardship, not when it meant the gremlin slept peacefully the rest of the night.

Slowly, softly, he hummed.

" _The sky was grey and cloudy, and the wind was from the west, when we spied a battered frigate, with her tattered sail full dressed..._ "

(The next day, he walked into his cabin and found the cot gone but an extra blanket on the bed.

He didn't say a word.)

* * *

After almost a year into traveling together, their first major fight took place.

With the clarity that came from a few too many bottles of wine and a mild concussion, Marshall could admit that yeah, he fucked up. It wasn't like the thing that started the fight was even that important! It just got blown out of proportion with each angry word until they were both standing on opposite sides of the boat in stony silence, not communicating except for glares.

They parted ways the moment they reached port, the gremlin angry enough that he was convinced she wouldn't be coming back, and in the heat of the moment he thought that that was for the best. He was already too attached. Prepared to put the kangaroo-girl out of his mind, he walked into the nearest bar.

He could admit that maybe he wasn't quite as glad about the gremlin leaving as he tried to convince himself he was, because he let his guard down. Midway through the establishment's stock of wine, he felt something strike the back of his head and then it was light's out.

Waking up an indefinite amount of time later, he found himself chained to the wall of a dungeon. An actual, honest-to-Davy-Jones dungeon. Watching a crazy guy pace and rant about he knew the people were plotting against him, hiring outsiders to do their dirty work.

He pretty much understand what was happening just from that, and once again cursed his luck.

Crazy Guy left a few minutes later and Marshall sighed, leaning back with a clink of chains, figuring he might as well get comfortable. Sure he could bust out - he wasn't bound with seastone - but what was the point? It wasn't like he had anything important to do.

Fast forward an unknown amount of time later and here he was, sober and incredibly bored in a dungeon. Crazy Guy obviously wasn't the kind to torture his prisoners except with mind-numbing boredom.

He was about ready to start counting the cracks in the ceiling when the door, for lack of a better word, exploded off its hinges, slamming into the wall inches from his head.

Even before the dust settled, Marshall was smiling. "Hey, gremlin."

Just two words, but with a wealth of meaning the kangaroo-girl heard loud and clear as she returned the smile with a wide grin.

* * *

("Curse you!" Oadipys Franz, unofficial king of Pyriss and the _scumbag idiot_ who _kidnapped her friend and teacher_ , shrieked, frothing at the mouth as he raged in the ruins of his estate, "mark my words, I'll see you in your grave if it's the last thing I do!"

"Bury me shallow, coz I'll be back!" She retorted, knocking him out with an Armament-clad kick to the face as she raced down the stairs she'd uncovered that led to the dungeon.

When she'd calmed down from that stupid, stupid fight, she'd felt awful. It been such a small thing to fight over; she couldn't even remember what it was after her anger subsided, which just made her feel even worse. She'd wandered around for hours, trying to work up the guts to find Marshall and apologize, but then she'd seen that guy in armor pushing around Marie and she leapt before she looked, partially transforming her legs and taking him out with a single kick.

(It was something Marshall had taught her early on when she first joined him, mumbling that if she was gonna have the fruit then she might as well know how to use it when she asked, and now she felt even worse about their stupid fight.)

Saving Marie got her introduced to Marie's brother Mark who was leading the resistance against the unofficial king of the island and also a few bottles short of a keg, if what they told her was true. Mark was okay but kind of wimpy, having wound up with the leader position because he was too nice to say no. Then the so-called 'Royal Swords' attacked the resistance meeting Marie had dragged her to and she had to help fight and then Todd who had a crush on Marie almost got stabbed and then-

Then the head _bastard_ bragged about how they had already captured the other mercenary the rebels had hired while looking at _her_ and-

Her mind went blank, thoughts drowned in a wave of static as she watched Mark step up and really be a leader, the rebels beating the attackers back, Marie crying and confessing to Todd as she bandaged his injury.

Atreya saw it all, but none of it registered, her mind still trying to process what that knight-jerk said.

She had come to the island with one person, just one, and they were saying they _caught_ him? It wasn't possible, her teacher was way too strong to get taken down by weaklings like these-

But if he was distracted, say by finding the closest source of booze to forget a fight he'd had with someone, someone might get the drop on him enough to get in a lucky shot...

Feeling sick to her stomach, she spoke up during the impromptu planning of an attack on the head jerk's main residence and bluntly stated that she was coming along, not taking no for an answer. Credit where it was due, Mark knew a losing battle when he saw one and moved the meeting along.

The entire time, she kept remembering that the last thing she said to him were angry words in the heat of some stupid argument she couldn't even remember the cause of.

She _might_ have gone a little wild during the attack, powerful kicks blowing holes in the walls big enough to fit a ship through and muscled tail whipping around to send people flying. She was pretty much a one kangaroo wrecking crew, and by the time she saw the head jerk himself, the keep was in ruins.

Dust and rubble filled the air as she ran thrown the dungeon, following her nose to one cell at the back and-

_Crash!_

Seeing Marshall, her teacher and friend, chained but unharmed and hearing him say those two words made everything okay.

She returned his smile with a wide grin of her own, and all was right in her world.)

* * *

A week later, Marshall found a bounty poster for "Gremlin" Atreya, worth seven million Beri, in the bundle of paper delivered by a familiar News Coo.

_Caw_

"You said it," he agreed, handing the albatross three thousand Beri and some salmon.

It was hard to tell which the bird was happier about.

* * *

"So, why are you being named Queen again?" Marshall asked, pointedly ignoring the flower crown on his own head.

"'Cause you punched the high priest in the face and I kicked the nasty princess so hard she hit the big statue and cracked it enough to show where they'd hid her parents bodies!" The gremlin laughed, swishing her hair so the flowers woven into it went flying in an array of color.

The Dryadians idolized flowers and used them for pretty much everything, even developing a language based around them, and the people had pulled out all the stops for the celebration. The positions of King and Queen were mostly ceremonial, one of the priests explained, but they did come with a lovely spring and the right to wear the Royal Flora.

The fruit wine was good, and he silently passed the gremlin a few bottles to put in her pouch.

Sitting in a grove bedecked in flowers and eating a feast comprised entirely of fruit and vegetables while scantily clad men and women danced around a rainbow-flowered tree, he shrugged and went with it.

* * *

The gremlin wanted to be a shipwright, he learned one day.

He didn't find out intentionally, but they were helping out a merchant ship during a storm and fighting off a giant squid attack and he walked in on her giving a motivational speech to a cabin boy. She mentioned her dream of being a great shipwright and yeah, that made sense. It explained her being so interested in the boat upgrade on the underwater island.

Really, he wasn't planning to say anything, but on a whim he bought her a book on ship-building and when he gave it to her she figured out he knew. The gremlin behaved like she was on pins and needles for nearly a week, clearly bracing for some kind of mockery.

After that week, he just ruffled her hair and said simply, "no one has any right to call your dream stupid but you."

Just like that, the tension was gone.

* * *

"Well, that escalated quickly."

His comment earned him an incredulous look from the gremlin, the two sitting on a hill and watching the mayhem happening below.

"We should stop them!"

"Later, it's just getting to the good part."

"....fine."

Ever so slowly, the gremlin reached over to snag a handful of popcorn he'd had the foresight to prepare.

* * *

"It needs to be delivered by October 15th, think you can make it happen?"

_Ca-caw!_

"Look, I'm not saying you have to deliver it yourself, just send over some birds you don't like and offer to split the profits,"

_Ca-ca-caw!_

"Well if you don't like them then would you really care if they didn't make it back?"

Silence.

_....Caw_

* * *

(He may or may not wind up giving the koala Zoan to an artist that he might or might not woo for the night.

(If anyone ever asked, he claimed he lost it in a card game.))

* * *

_Fucking Dance-Dance Fruit!_

* * *

Irys Island was a gorgeous sight, natural waterfalls and crystal-like trees throwing off a dazzling array of rainbows in every direction, and the people were as colorful as their island.

The Festival of Colors started the day after they made land, and he and the gremlin stayed through the whole thing. Part of the festival was a myriad of games, and between the two of them they cleaned up, walking away with the grand prizes for practically every game.

Only one they didn't win was the beauty contest, and by unspoken agreement they didn't even try for that one.

* * *

"In my defense," the gremlin started.

" _You say that like you are in any way defensible,_ "

* * *

"Stupid whirlpools!" Marshall roared, punching a native who looked like a bizarre mixture of human and deer, except green, in the snout.

The boat was fine, but apparently they'd crushed some kind of sacred kelp when they landed and now the locals were out for blood.

A couple of days later, local time, the gremlin figured out that the so-called 'sacred' kelp had hallucinogenic properties and the deer-people mayor was using it to drug his citizens and maintain his popularity. Marshall didn't really get it, but he talked to the guy's secretary and the woman looked appropriately furious and horrified.

Cue the revolution.

The gremlin kicked the mayor's son in the family jewels while Marshall raided the kitchen and somehow ended up inspiring the mayor's daughter to stand up to her father. All in all, an eventful few days. Then he woke up the day after the celebratory feast to find out the gremlin had gotten together with the deer-people shipwrights to give his boat an upgrade.

"Seriously, the wood from their Treasure Tree Scylla is _amazing_!" The gremlin gushed as Marshall stared up at his renovated boat - no it was a ship now, a decent-sized one with a proper mast and everything. They'd incorporated the pieces of the original boat and previous upgrade into this one, though those bits were on the inside. The layout was different from the Coddi, with a completely different Dial system (they called it a Shell system) used to submerge the ship and control the depth and speed.

The treasure room and his quarters were untouched, but since he had actual captain's quarters now...

Sighing, he ruffled the gremlin's hair and moved to enter the ship. "Come on, gremlin, time to shift some things around and make use of all this new room."

Whooping in glee, the gremlin raced after him.

* * *

"No."

Marshall's voice was firm and the gremlin scowled, demanding to know, "why not?"

"Because searching for buried treasure _anywhere_ near Dead Man's Island always ends badly, let alone the side near Dead Man's Current!"

"But the map leads to an island almost a week's sail away, we won't even get close!" She argued, " _please_? Just to take a look?"

It was the eyes that got him. Groaning, he pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head as the gremlin cheered, sensing victory. Still, he told her pointedly, "when this goes straight to the Locker, I _will_ be saying 'I told you so'!"

* * *

" _I told you so._ "

Wrapped in rope and suspended above a boiling cauldron, the gremlin whined.

* * *

The second anniversary of Rouge's death, Marshall found an island specialized in making liquor and drank their entire stock.

He didn't remember a lot of that week, but he knew that the gremlin stayed by his side the entire time.

* * *

A month later, Marshall decided that it was time to pay a certain island in the East Blue a visit.


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Marshall's experience, crewmembers just tend to happen.

From where he and the gremlin were in the Grand Line to the East Blue, the trip took about two months if everything went smoothly.

Marshall was entirely unsurprised when it didn't.

* * *

They met the talking goldfish three days into Paradise...by catching it (her, as it turned out) in a fishing net.

Arguably not the best meeting, but the rowboat-sized goldfish was a good sport about it as Marshall sighed and set to work untangling her. "My own fault really," the fish was saying, obliging flopping to help Marshall pull the net out from under her, "I was so focused on chasing that blasted bird I wasn't looking where I was going,"

"What bird?" The gremlin asked, and as if summoned an unfamiliar News Coo swooped by, landing on the railing and cawing mockingly at the goldfish. Said fish _growled_ , glaring at the avian and fins sticking straight out as Marshall heaved her over the side. He would have thought that was the last of it, except it turned out the unfamiliar Coo's route was in the same direction they were sailing.

The bird also seemed to get enjoyment out of flying close to the water and _just_ slow enough that the fish could keep up, cawing tauntingly each time it dodged the goldfish's attempts to eat it.

He and the gremlin watched this for a few days before the gremlin decided, "you know, that bird's kind of a jerk."

Well, she wasn't _wrong_...

* * *

"Really, I have nothing against birds in general, especially now that I'm this size, but this particular Coo has been a spine in my tail since I was a guppy!" The fish explained, spilling the entire story the minute the gremlin asked why she was so determined to catch the bird. "He was always diving down and trying to eat me, lording it over me that he has such an important job, calling me names and stealing my food and starting rumors about how I'm part blobfish!"

(Marshall privately thought that she was just happy to have someone to talk to, but he had to admit that that particular Coo sounded like a grade-A asshole.)

The goldfish and gremlin became fast friends after that, the gremlin joining the fish in hollering curses at the taunting bird and using it as target practice for her Tempest Kicks to try to knock it out of the sky.

She missed, but really that just made her more determined to help her new fishy friend.

A week into the unlikely friendship, a far more welcome bird landed on the railing next to him to watch the show. Absently giving the News Coo some salmon and accepting a paper in return for a few thousand Beri, Marshall asked idly, "relative of yours?"

_Caw_

"Ah, one of those huh?"

_Caw!_

"Eh, there's always one in every family, can't really blame your wife for that...how's the family, by the way?"

_Caw-caw_

"Good to know."

The pair watched as one of the gremlin's kicks went wild as the other Coo cackled, doing a slow, mocking loop to dodge the gust of wind she launched at it, the goldfish's following leap and tail whip not even coming close to connecting. The feathered jerk cawed what was unmistakably an insult, cackling at the dual screams of rage that followed as it looped back to deliver a 'package' over both their heads.

"...so, any objections to that guy not making it to any more reunions?"

_Caw!_

_Good riddance!_

* * *

"Thanks again for all your help, Captain Marshall, Miss Atreya!" The goldfish thanked them again, leaping out of the water and doing flips and spins as she enthused, "I thought I'd never be rid of that damned bird and you just swooped in and _pow_ , no more feathered menace!"

"Yeah, that was _awesome_!" The gremlin agreed, happily dancing right along with her fishy friend.

Marshall kind of sweatdropped at that; he hadn't even punched the bird that hard and it pretty much exploded into a cloud of feathers. He hadn't even used Armament, for seas sake!

* * *

("My name is Topaz, by the way, I don't think I ever said," the goldfish - Topaz - introduced herself later that evening.

He wished he could say he was surprised when the fish tagged along after that.)

* * *

"No."

Marshall was willing to put up with a lot, crewmembers dragging weird stuff, people and animals included, but he drew the line at _chicken Zoans_. Granted the only reference he had was that chicken Smile-user on Wano but no, just - _no_.

"C'mon, captain!" The gremlin whined, "give 'em a chance!"

"You only want them on board because they're shorter than you," he pointed out dryly, because it was true, the Zoan in question _was_ shorter than the Gremlin, almost a full head shorter in fact, with the kind of skinniness that came from too many missed meals. Ignoring the gremlin's sputters of denial, he looked again at the kid she'd 'found' on the last island they'd resupplied at before entering the Calm Belt.

Pale skin peeking through holes in the ragged clothes that swallowed their frame, a lone turquoise eye peered at him warily from behind shaggy white hair.

He sighed.

Really, there was only one thing he could say in this situation.

"...fine, they can stay, but _you're_ cleaning up the feathers!"

The gremlin cheered, pulling her fellow Zoan close to her side in a one-armed hug, Topaz the goldfish joining in from beside the ship.

* * *

Their name, the gremlin informed him later, was Ashley.

Okay then.

* * *

Once Ashley settled in, the first thing Marshall learned about the chicken-person was that they were _snarky_ , throwing barbs as easily as the knives they snagged from the kitchen before Marshall got annoyed and gave them proper throwing knives.

The gremlin loved it, giving as good as she got, but it took until they were a week into the East Blue before they said anything to _him_. As expected, their first words to him were snarky, and spoken right after he nearly tripped over a coil of rope.

"Forget your walker, old man?" They asked.

"Forget your pacifier, brat?" He shot back without pause.

That earned him a look of respect, so yeah, totally worth it.

* * *

(They had a seemingly bottomless well of old man jokes to draw upon.

He retaliated by teaching the gremlin every bird and chicken joke he could remember and a few he made up on the spot.

Credit where it was due, they lasted almost a week before begging for mercy.)

* * *

Despite what Marshall feared, his newest crewmember's full Zoan form actually looked like a normal chicken. A ridiculously fluffy white-feathered mass the size of a beer keg with talons sharp enough to slice someone's face off, but still a regular chicken.

* * *

"So explain to me why you pecked that guy's eyes out?" Marshall asked Ashley.

As he listened to the chain of events that led up to him finding the gremlin cleaning blood and eyegoop out of the feathers of Ashley's Zoan form, he met their eyes which were shining with a mixture of fear and defiance.

Then he shook his head and sighed, because _these brats_.

Reaching out a hand, he pretended not to see the way they tensed before his palm landed on their head and he gently ruffled their hair, saying warmly, "you did good, brat."

Again, he pretended not to see when they scrubbed the tears from their eyes, the gremlin leaning over to hug them and smiling at him over their head.

* * *

He taught the goldfish Moonwalk because why not.

* * *

Teaching the chicken to use Armament on their talons: _Why did he think that was a good idea?!_

Amidst the screams of pain, avian battle cries and the gremlin's laughter, Marshall sighed.

Looking on the bright side, no one could say that that particular slave trader didn't deserve it...

* * *

Halfway to Dawn Island, the goldfish, practicing her Moonwalk alongside the ship, asked why his hair looked oddly shiny, drawing the gremlin and chicken's attention.

He shrugged and explained his practice of coating his hair in Armament haki.

"That makes sense, thanks!" Topaz said cheerfully, flicking her fins in concentration, some of her scales darkening to near-black a few minutes later, only to go back to normal after a few seconds. He chuckled as he heard the fish start muttering to herself, not bothering to mention that it might go easier if she wasn't Moonwalking at the same time.

Whatever, she seemed to be having fun so he left her to it, going to prepare lunch and completely missing the thoughtful looks on the gremlin and Ashley's faces.

When he walked out of his quarters the next day and saw a shiny black kangaroo and chicken standing on deck, he turned on his heel and went right back inside.

Nope.

* * *

Marshall got his new crewmember a white-feathered trench coat, because how could he resist?

They held up the coat, a lost and somewhat uncertain look on their face because the piece of clothing was big enough to swallow them, obviously made for someone a lot bigger, but Marshall smiled as he assured them, "you'll grow into it,"

He ruffled their hair, pretending not to see the tears they quickly brushed away as they hugged the coat close.

* * *

"The one thing I told you not to do! The _one thing_!" Ashley screeched, every inch the puffed up, offended bird as they fluttered around the gremlin, who was a bit beaten up but otherwise fine after an encounter with bounty hunters.

"It's not like I knew that poster had made it all the way out here!" The gremlin crossed her arms and huffed, only to wince and drop them a moment later and Marshall hummed, commenting, "yeah, bruised ribs are a bitch,"

Her noise of agreement was drowned out by Ashley's shriek:

" _Bruised ribs?!_ "

That was how they learned that the snarky chicken-person was more than a bit of a mother hen, at least where the gremlin was concerned.

(After a battle against some New World Marines on vacation, a young Sea King and the gremlin's self-proclaimed nemesis, waking up in his ship's infirmary to bandages around his torso and a giant chicken dozing in a chair next to his bed, Marshall learned from the gremlin that it wasn't just her that they were protective of.)

* * *

When the next batch of bounty posters included one for 'Red Talon' Ashley, worth sixty million, Marshall just shook his head and laughed.

* * *

"We are in the _East Blue_ ; where _in the name of Davy Jones did you find a chest of cursed treasure?_ "

The two Zoans squeaked, trying to look as small as possible as the goldfish piped up, "I helped!"

" _As soon as I get rid of these ghosts, we **will** be talking about this._"

"Yes, Captain," his three idiots chorused.

* * *

"You kicked a guy in the face and stole his fiancee: _Why?_ "

Said fiancee lifted her hand, beatific smile on her face, "I was quite happy to be stolen, actually."

" _Not helping,_ " his three crewmembers whimpered, seeing the look on their captain's face.

Listening to the woman's story, Marshall groaned, clapping a hand to his face because he couldn't exactly send her back _now_.

Sure that Rouge was laughing at him from the Locker, he growled out, " _fine_ ," pointing at the woman, he asked, "what's your name and what can you do?"

"Mersalla Geordina, and I'm good at weaving, playing the piano and making the best cheesecake in the East Blue." The woman replied.

"Name's Marshall D. Teach, learn to shoot and you can stay."

"Deal!"

* * *

After months of sailing to reach Dawn Island and whose ship did he see at the dock? 

Monkey D. _Fucking_ Garp's.

Reluctantly he adjusted his own ship's course, figuring he'd come back in a month to visit his nephew once the Vice-Admiral was gone.

(He knew he wouldn't be able to see Garp without punching the man in the face.)

Unfortunately, his second attempted visit went the same as the first, as did the third, the fourth...

The railing creaked in protest beneath his white-knuckled grip.

Wordlessly, he turned and stalked back to his quarters, door slamming shut behind him.

Neither Ashley, the gremlin, goldfish or Geordina said anything about the torrent of curses that filtered through the door seconds later.

* * *

It was almost poetic, in a way, that the first day Marshall set foot on Dawn Island was Ace's birthday.


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marshall gets a beer keg smashed over his head and his ship gets a name.

"I mean, it's not like my life was _bad_ , per se," Geordina said earnestly, sighting along the pistol Captain Marshall had dug up from the armory for her to practice with and taking aim at the bottle serving as her target, "A nice upbringing, good parents, I even learned to read and write as I worked in my parents shop - barring the whole engagement mess I had a very pleasant life!"

A pleasant life for a pleasant girl, a voice in her mind murmured, a girl who was pretty and quiet and who always did as she was told.

"What was that about anyway? That guy was a jerk." Atreya huffed.

Geordina hummed in agreement, adjusting her stance. "Unfortunately, in addition to being a pig of a man, pardon my language, Pifle Sedgburn was also the wealthiest man on the island, the son of the mayor and distantly related to the Royal Family of Goa on his mother's side. So when he took an interest in a shopgirl like me, my parents had no choice but to accept his suit."

Unwillingly, but there was no denying the benefits it would have brought to her family even if the thought of that man touching her made her skin crawl.

"That's stupid," Ashley said bluntly, looking distinctly unimpressed with the so-called logic.

"Oh, I agree, but I had no choice except to go along with it." Geordina sighed.

" _I would have just gutted him and been done with it,_ " a female voice came from the Transponder Snail perched on a barrel, the woman who introduced herself as Vertara having called minutes after Captain Marshall left.

(' _Man-Eater Vertara?_ ' A voice in the back of her mind whispered, delightfully scandalized.)

A chorus of agreement sounded in the background, audible through the speaker. From what Geordina could tell, the voices all belonged to Captain Marshall's first crew in the Grand Line.

"Sadly, by then the announcement had been made, so if anything untoward had happened to him I would have been the first suspect and subsequently executed," Geordina explained.

"Is that why you were so happy to be kidnapped?" Topaz piped up, jumping up to hang half over the railing. "From what Atreya tells me, he looked like a pig along with acting like one,"

"Indeed," Geordina's finger tightened on the trigger.

_Bang!_

The bottle shattered.

Geordina smiled as her new crewmates cheered, both those present and those on the other side of the call.

* * *

Atreya and Vertara were getting along marvelously, Topaz was gleefully chatting about Fishman Island to someone named Zarazan, and Ashley seemed interested in Wilde's stories.

Sitting on one of the barrels on deck, Geordina looked at her reflection in a small handmirror pensively. It was freeing, the realization that 'this is not who I am', along with the knowledge that she could do something about it.

Step by step, she removed the pins in her hair, letting her light brown hair fall in waves around her head and shoulders, wiping away the makeup highlighting her light violet eyes and accentuating her full lips. Calmly, she stripped off her dress, leaving her in only her bright red, white frilled corset and the brown trousers she always wore under her skirts, propriety be damned.

Good girls didn't curse, good girls didn't show their skin, good girls were always polite and refined, good girls didn't _fire pistols_...her mother had told her that often enough over the years, and she had done her best to abide by them and be the perfect lady.

Too bad that now that perfect girl was gone.

Geordina wasn't sorry to see her go.

What warmed her from the inside out was the fact that none of her new crewmates even blinked at her new look, Ashley being the only one who even seemed to notice, and they just nodded in approval.

An idea occurred to her, and she stepped forward to - politely - interrupt the current conversation, "excuse me, do you know where I can find a second one of these?" She held up her pistol.

Atreya grinned.

* * *

" _So does your ship have a name yet?_ " Olivia asked.

Atreya frowned, saying hesitantly, "I don't think so? I know Captain was thinking about names though! He said that naming a ship couldn't be rushed, that it had to really _fit_."

" _It's true!_ " Cino piped up, " _None of us were there when Coddi got her name, but I can't imagine her without it!_ "

"Wait, Coddi? As in the _Coddiwomple_?! _She_ was Captain's first ship?!" Atreya squealed, her eyes sparkling as she bounced in excitement, "the famous ghost ship herself?! I'd look for newspapers just to see if there was a new sighting!"

The conversation desolved into Atreya gushing over Coddi and asking about how she was built and "is she as awesome as she looks?!"

" ** _More._** "

* * *

The call ended right as Marshall returned, dripping wet and smelling like a brewery, with an expression that could only be described as exasperated fondness as he walked passed his gaping crewmembers into his quarters.

When he came out an hour later, freshly dressed and in a much better mood, he saw the four members of his crew exchanging uncertain glances before Topaz, brave fish that she is, asks, "is everything okay, Captain?"

He looked at the goldfish hanging half over the railing and answered easily, "fine, just had a bit of an incident in a bar."

The younger Dadan might look different, but her personality was _exactly_ the same, he mused. Really, breaking that keg over his head was _completely_ unnecessary - all he'd been doing was checking on his nephew!

On that note, three year-old Ace is _adorable_.

* * *

("My nephew is adorable." He informed Vertara later that night.

Seeing Ace for the first time since he was born, it had hit him how soft and small and cute his nephew was, already three times the size he was when Marshall first held him and sporting the same freckles as his mother. So absorbed was he in drinking in the sight of the sleeping infant, he didn't notice Dadan sneaking up behind him until the keg was smashed over his head, he told Vertara, who could barely breathe for laughing so hard as he relayed the series of events.

It wasn't like the blow had hurt; by this point it was instinct using haki on his hair but still, _rude_.)

* * *

As much as he'd like to, hanging around Dawn Island for the foreseeable future just wasn't feasible, and so it was with reluctance that he hauled up the anchor and turned the ship away.

Setting off with no particular heading, was it any surprise that in the midst of training the newest members of his crew in how to care for and steer a ship that they found themselves hopelessly lost?

(He blamed the gremlin.)

* * *

Staring at the rather scuffed and battered kangaroo-girl, chicken-person and giant goldfish, Marshall deadpanned, "so...you got mugged..."

All three immediately puffed up to defend themselves.

"...by a rabbit."

They swiftly deflated.

Dina giggled, the woman the only one not bruised in some way, and informed him, "it had a Devil Fruit, actually. The Human-Human Fruit, Model: Woman, I believe."

"That doesn't make it better."

* * *

(The gremlin declared the rabbit her archenemy, and somewhere in the New World a certain exiled noble sneezed.

(He taught the rabbit Shave because a little competition was good for the soul.))

* * *

Marshall fully blamed the next series of events on the gremlin and Topaz, her unlikely partner in crime.

The island of Sivenia was a masterpiece of architecture, most of which dealt with waterways, and _of course_ the gremlin decided to crash the party being held in the mayor's fancy manor. Topaz was curious about human parties and volunteered to help, while Marshall followed out of morbid curiosity.

The gremlin and fish snuck in through an underground waterway, while he decided to go the easy route and walk in through the front door...which was where he saw the rabbit, who had snuck in via the coatroom.

Plump body, soft, fluffy gray fur, a twitching pink nose, small black eyes and stiff ears...yep, that was a rabbit. Then the gremlin showed up and the rabbit shifted, turning into a buxom, curvaceous woman with gray hair and dark eyes to hurl insults at the gremlin.

Normally he'd just sit back and enjoy the show, but he couldn't help noticing that-

"That is a male rabbit." He observed.

The argument abruptly stopped, and suddenly there was a beaming face right in front of him as the gremlin yelped.

"What?!"

" _Really?_ " The rabbit breathed, eyes shining, "you can tell?!"

"Uh...yeah. Kinda obvious." He said blankly.

The rabbit squealed, jumping and making a spirited attempt to suffocate him with her cleavage.

* * *

"Sorry about that," the rabbit, Kyle, apologized once things calmed down, wrinkling her - at the moment - nose, "it's been kind of a long-standing issue."

"I can tell," Marshall snorted, amused.

In the background, Dina, Topaz and Ashley consoled the stunned gremlin.

The rabbit joined the crew, much to no one's surprise.

Marshall was just glad to have another male, if only part-time, onboard.

* * *

When Marshall saw a Devil Fruit, an unmistakably _familiar_ Devil Fruit, resembling a durian crossed with the essence of evil and colored a menacing purple, he immediately turned around and ran like hell.

He had them off the island within the hour because _fuck that_.

(If he'd thought that was the end if it he would soon find that he was sadly mistaken. That first encounter would not be the last.)

* * *

Right, he'd been putting it off long enough, Marshall decided.

It was time to name the ship.

Bucket of paint at his side and current crew of troublemakers off causing chaos, he was free to mull over his options in peace. Effulgent was a good name, though it might be a little on the nose to name such a dark ship something like 'shining brightly'. Dolorifuge...that was an option, but not necessarily true; it wasn't solely the ship that helped him out of those dark days following Rouge's death.

Nepenthe was one possibility, though he wasn't sure he liked the connotations. Perspicacious sounded good but didn't exactly click...

Making his decision, he stood up from his seat on the beach and grabbed the can of dark blue paint.

And when his crew returned, it was to see the ship's new name proudly displayed on her hull.

 _The Metanoia_.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Ship's Captain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29059248) by [NightHunterDeath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightHunterDeath/pseuds/NightHunterDeath)




End file.
